


Fatefinder

by Andaletahina



Series: Fatefinder [1]
Category: D&D - Fandom, DnD - Fandom, DnD5e - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), My fancition, Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game), TTRPG - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bards, Blow Jobs, Cowgirl Position, Crying, Cunnilingus, Curse Breaking, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Faerûn, Fairy Tale Curses, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forest Sex, Forests, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Lemon, Love, Love Confessions, Luskan (Forgotten Realms), Minor Character Death, Missionary Position, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Saltmarsh (Forgotten Realms), Scarification, Scars, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Size Difference, Smut, Soulmates, Sunless Citadel (Forgotten Realms), Sword Coast (Forgotten Realms), Tears, The Feywild, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Varisia, Waterdeep (Forgotten Realms), Wings, Witch Curses, barbarian, past trauma, wholesome relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andaletahina/pseuds/Andaletahina
Summary: Each of the chapters can be read as a stand aloneI have been playing my Fey'ri Bard Reina since January 2019; during our DnD5e campaign she got together with the party's barbarian Fenrik (human male); they have a very wholesome "we're actually soulmates" relationship, but Reina is a bard, so there has to be some angst, right? ;DI am going to post mostly NSFW snippets of various lenghts, as I write them out of game for my own enjoyment.I hope that you'll find them entertaining as well <3Update (03/2021): If you haven't been here for a while be warned that I don't post these snippets in the order of my writing them, but in the order they would have occured in game time. I added in game time and place at the beginning of the chapter now.To make sure that you don't miss anything, I suggest skipping through, instead of going to the last chapter; the order of writing (in english) was as follows: Chapter 1, 3, 4, 8, 9, 5, 6, 2, 7
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original D&D Character(s)/Other(s), Original Elf character/Original Male Character, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Original Fey'ri Character, Original Tiefling Character(s)/Original Tiefling Character(s)
Series: Fatefinder [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918123
Kudos: 14





	1. Of Wagons, ships and shipping

**Author's Note:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

Mirtul, 1492, between Neverwinter Forest and Oakhurst

They had saved the town.  
From more than the townspeople would ever know.  
Not only had they killed off the twig blights and ended the war between kobolds and goblins – the later by killing most of the goblins and their disgusting leader. They had also ended a very crazy old druid and his experiments with a blithed gulthias tree!

Reina thought of the Sunless Citadel. She almost died twice in that place of the ancient, dragon worshipping elves. She shuddered. And not only her – the people she now travelled with as well!  
She looked down. Below her, at the side of the wagon, she was perching on, stood a tall, muscular man.  
A strapping northland warrior, only clad in pants and boots, but instead of an actual weapon, he wielded a paintbrush and was working in the sunshine to repaint her vardo style wagon. His muscles flexing and working under the unique scar pattern a “kiss” from one of Tempus’ own lightning bolts had painted him with. His head was still hairless, but his beard was starting to grow in again. He looked very different from the boy that she told his fortune, all those years ago.

Reina dipped her own paintbrush into the bucked with blue color, working on the roof.  
Their other two companions a dwarven druid named Torla and Haron the woodelf cleric of Mystra had left Reina and Fenrik to their own devices for a few days.  
Those two had wanted to inform the “Circle of Swords” a well-established druid circle in the woods of Neverwinter, what had caused the twig blights. 

Now that the group were celebrated heroes and had named themselves after her - Reina’riel Fatefinder - into “the Fatefinders”, their main means of transportation needed an upgrade.  
After all, they now were heroes of Oakhurst and the bard in Reina knew the start of a good, heroic story. This was not the end – only the beginning…

So, while Torla and Haron were gone for a few days, the opportunity to repaint the wagon and give it a fancy lettering proclaiming their name was just too good to pass up. And she had successfully roped Fenrik into helping her with the paint shop.

While she was applying the new paint, she suddenly heard a disgruntled sound.  
“Hey, careful up there” Fenrik grunted up at her, still coating the side paneling of the wagon with even strokes, on his head a dot of blue color that must have dripped down from her brush.  
“Sorry! Accident!” she called down.  
The answer was another grunt. One that sounded not very convinced. He had not even looked up, just kept on working.

Eyebrows lowering, eyes forming slits, Reina cocked her head. He thought that she’d done it on purpose, had he? She gave a soundless inward sniff. Then grinned. After a few heartbeats, with a little flick of her wrist, she let another - bigger - drop of paint splat on Fenrik’s bare shoulder and bit her lip to contain an impish grin.

This time he looked up, furrowing his brows. “Hey! I told you to be careful!” he yelled up at her. Wiping off the droplets with the back of his hand.

“Ooops, I am so sorry! Again - accident!” and with a sweet smile she added “how very clumsy of me. Maybe you should move to the other side of the wagon to be save.” Then she winked. 

The tall barbarian just looked up grinning: “No, thanks – I like the view from here.” He let his eyes wander up over her then gave her a saucy grin and a wink of his own. 

Her eyes forming slits again, she haughtily raised her nose up and sniffed “well, that is too bad for you, because I am done” she let the paintbrush fall into the bucket and climbed from the top of the Vardo to the ground.  
He shrugged “So am I”, he replied. “Let’s start on the other side then – maybe together.” His voice sounded hopeful, his beard hid his mouth, but she could tell by the slight laugh lines appearing, that he was still grinning. 

Something was up, but she just nodded in agreement, turned to move to the other side of the wagon, when she suddenly felt a little ‘splat’ on her neck. She gasped, wiped her hand over her neck. It came back blue!  
She whirled around, yelling “YOU!” with feigned anger and was promptly hit by another ‘splat’ on her check and one right under her collarbone.  
“Oh, this is on!” she thought.  
She sent a full “brush-load” of blue paint right at him and only because he ducked and turned slightly, did it not hit him right in the face.

He reciprocated and just like that, they were running in circles around the Vardo, laughing, paint flying, sometimes hitting, but more often missing the intended target. 

When she was starting to run low on paint to throw, she yelled, “I’ll give you a chance to yield, mighty warrior - do you submit?” to which he half laughed, half growled “Hah! Never!” 

She was swinging both arms back to give the paint enough momentum, trying to send the rest of the bucket’s content his way. Then, squealing in delight, she ran to get cover behind the Vardo.  
Looking over her shoulder there was no Fenrik! Instead, he suddenly appeared from the other end of the wagon!  
He must have turned on his heel running the other direction and he did not stop but barreled right into her, tackling her to the ground.

Her bucket was lost, but she still had some paint on her brush. Laughing and giggling she tried to smear the sticky blue mass over his face, but he just grabbed her wrist and not too gently, pinned it over her head to the ground.  
Reina could barely breathe from laughing. The curse had been broken, the bad things taken care of. She had not felt this carefree or alive in at least 7 years! 

Both were breathing hard, but Fenrik had stopped laughing. An odd look on his face, he peered down at her. Only then, she realized their position.  
Her hairpins must have fallen out; the red locks fanning out around her head. In the squabble, the thin material of her favorite working blouse had ripped and made the neckline indecently low.  
Her arms pinned down overhead and the big muscular body of the Northman pressing her into the spring grass.  
He had a peculiar look on his face – like a man, that was very thirsty, but did not dare to drink, for fear of not being allowed… or welcome at the well. 

The smell of spring and paint, the rush of her blood in her veins and laughter still rumbling in her belly, made her feel very daring. She lowered her voice to a sultry, breathless drawl, “Well, well, well, the Northman caught the Faery.” She laughed and looked up at him through her lashes, wetting her lips with her tongue. “Tell me sailor, now that you’ve got me… what will you do with me?”  
She arched her back; the movement more pronounced with him pressing her arms down, even that small movement had her whole body pressing up, flush against him.  
And - not that she’d not know it earlier - but she suddenly had a very good idea of what he would like to do with her.

The air felt charged, everything seemed suspended. Fenrik held himself utterly still and for a fraction of a moment, she wondered if she had misread the signs.  
Should she back off?  
Then everything was back in motion. His lips descended on hers with the speed of the lightning that marked him, the grip of his left hand on her wrists turned gentler, his forearm resting now beside hers, bracing him, as he lowered himself fully on her.

In Reina’s experience, first kisses were usually at least a little bit awkward, with bumping of noses, or not perfectly hitting the mark on the first try.  
But this one? Managed to land just right, his lips soft and his beard delightfully rough on her skin, the kiss was both gentle and demanding at the same time. He was not pussyfooting around and surely taking no prisoners.  
His tongue swept into her mouth, to tangle with hers, at the first slight subconscious opening of her lips. He was drinking in the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped her.

His body seemingly eclipsed the world, but she did not feel caged in by it. His scent was what really got to her. She felt oddly safe and grounded by the smell of wood, paint, the oil he used on his weapons and underneath those everyday scents something primal and male, as well as the smell of ozone and petrichor. A thunderstorm, she mused, a rising storm, ready to break loose. 

His lower body was grinding against her rolling hips and when his right hand started roaming over her side and rips, she managed to slip her own left hand out of his loosened grasp. Gently letting it glide over his head, neck, shoulder and back. With her hand on the back of his head, she retreated a bit from his lips, turning her face, so she could guide him mouth to wander over the side of her throat, kissing along the quickly beating pulse visible under the soft, tender skin. 

Lavishing kisses on the sweet spot over the pulse point, his free hand was working on her blouse. In his enthusiasm, the already frayed material ripped further. Grimacing at the sound of rending cloth, he stopped and looked down. 

Reina raised her head to also look at the long tear. Her left breast was now bared to the world. The peaches and cream complexion of her skin, the dragon scales dotting it like freckles, gleaming just like freshly minted silver coins in the sun. A dusky pink nipple stiffened further, now that Fenrik’s body was no longer pressed against her, allowing the cool spring air to blow over her.

Instead of admiring the view, he still looked dismayed at the torn garment, so she moved her face back into his field of vision and with sparkling green eyes, told him: “Don’t worry about it. You can rip every scrap of it to shreds for all I care,” she rose up to kiss him, then whispering into his ear “just get me out of it. All of it - and… please don’t stop.”

Like a passing storm cloud his expression changed. A wicked gleam igniting in his dark brown eyes. Wagging his eyebrows: “As you wish.”  
Another hard tug and before she knew it, her upper body was bare, only the underbust bodice covering her torso now. He pushed her back down into the grass and (finally!) payed attention to her breasts. His warm hands covering and kneading the soft mounds that fit perfectly into his palm. His mouth painted a trail of warm wetness on her chest, focusing especially on her nipples.

When they first met and she read the cards for him, she could practically feel his eyes on her. She had known, that he found the form she had been trapped in appealing. The form she had taken on, to please her Vistani husband and his family. As far as prisons went, it had been a sweet one, if still stifling. When they met again in Oakhurst, he had recognized her and the look of appreciation had been the same.

She had not been sure, if he would find her true form as appealing. The look of dismay had pierced her, even though the rationale part of her instantly knew, that it was directed at his clumsiness and not the silver scales. Still, the fervor, with which he was now kissing her, was a salve on the small hurt of this moment of insecurity. 

The sharp tug of lips on one dusky peak and of calloused fingers on the other scattered her thoughts and grounded her back in the moment, as her body bowed of its own accord, craving more contact. Her hands had started to push down his pants and Fenrik was working under her knee length skirt that was connected to the underbust bodice - obviously trying to get her out of her skintight soft kidskin leather leggings.  
He was growling something under his breath that sounded like an expletive, then louder: “Reina, how do I get you out of these? Have you magicked them on, woman?”  
A startled laugh burst out of her. “No,” she giggled, “they’re laced up on the side, silly! But, as I said – just rip them.”

She had actually meant the laces, but with a broad grind that made white teeth gleam in the dark beard, he grabbed the sides of her britches. All those lovely muscles rippled under the tanned skin with the feathery scars and with a loud ripping sound the leggings split right down the middle at the crotch.  
Another powerful yank later and what was left of them, was pushed down over her thighs, bunching up at the top of her knee-high boots, revealing more creamy skin, a smattering of silver scales and red curles, only half hiding glistening pink lower lips.

Two of her most favorite garments destroyed, Reina could not have cared less. The casual display of brute strength had only served to wet her appetite and the look on Fenrik’s face was priceless.  
There was no doubt, that he liked what he saw and wanted her. With her breasts, her thighs and their apex freed to his gaze and spring sun, she once more rose up to nestle against him, giving him a deep, hungry kiss, she pushed his pants down.

A half-formed joke about not needing to pitch tents beside wagons, fled her mind, when not breaking the kiss, arms looped around his neck she pulled him down onto the grass with her, wrapping her still half clothed legs around his hips to bring him closer, uniting them. 

Fenrik was tall, dwarfing her in her true form (wings not counted) and no part of the man was what would could be called “diminutive”. He was big and sliding into her with the same sure strength that he sheathed “Shatterspike” with.  
Yes, she was wet and very willing, but maybe she should have let him play more with her, before just dragging him on top of her? After years of abstinence, the sudden sensation of being filled to the brim was almost too much. There was more pain mixed into the pleasure than she’d accounted for. 

Looking at him, one might think that he was just a big brute. A hardened warrior, with blunt manners and emotions. But Reina knew that Fenrik was much more observant and feeling than people might give him credit for.  
Was it that empathy? Was it experience? Could he feel that she fit him, like a way too tight glove? Uncomfortably snug?  
Not sure how he knew, but whatever it was, instead of just going for it, taking her with hard strokes, as she had expected him to, he kept on kissing her hungrily, their tongues intertwined and he waited, till her inner muscles were finally able to let go, no longer fighting the sudden intrusion, accommodating him.  
Reina leaned into that kiss, letting it drown out past memories, experimentally first relaxing than tightening her muscles around him. She started to roll her hips, encouraging him to move and this time, it was her drinking down his groans of pleasure.

He was now moving with her, within her. It was still a snug fit, but no longer uncomfortable. Slightly shifting, he suddenly scraped over a spot that made her see stars behind closed eyelids. Throwing her head back she gasped and moaned. Her legs wrapped around him, trying to spur him on. 

He was breathing laboriously, like a hard ridden horse, the smell of ozone and petrichor more prominent. A glimpse through half-closed eyes, showed her that he seemed to fight for control. His teeth gritted, his fingers digging into the soil underneath them, he kept his movement even and smooth.  
Her family kept telling her, that she was too wicked for her own good. Here was Fenrik, doing his utmost, to be considerate and all she wanted and could think about was that she craved to break his control. Letting the leashed storm spiral into chaos. 

“Fenrik” her voice was a siren’s call, coercing his eyes to snap open, to look at her. Hair a wild red mess on the grass, her lips swollen and bee-stung from his kisses, just like her nipples and the rest of her still half-clothed form, letting all pretense go, all the masks ripped off, showing her pleasure and how much she wanted this and him.  
“Fenrik” she half moaned his name. There in his eyes! She had seen him in battle; he was so close to losing it! “I need you.”

“Well, you got me woman,” he bit out, his hips snapping a bit more forcefully, but still holding on.

She shook her head, loosening her arms, bringing them over her head, digging into the spring earth herself now, bracing against him, suddenly the bounce of her breasts very pronounced. Green eyes sparking, she issued a challenge in her siren voice: “Not like this. I need you to grab the hips, you were staring at for days and make your dragon bard sing, Northman.”

There was no other word for it – he snapped. Rearing back on his haunches, digging his earth-covered fingers into her hips, he took her with hard, deep almost ferocious strokes. The sound of flesh on flesh providing the rhythm to both their moans, groans and her breathy sounds of “Oh Fenrik”, “Please”, “Harder” and “By the gods”.

When she was close to reaching the peak, she mindlessly held on to him. Her regained, sharp almost claw like fingernails, digging into his back and then buttocks, seemingly whipping him into a frenzy, hitting all the right spots, making her clench up and shudder as the first orgasm in years (not provided from her own hands mind you) made the world white-out and go still for Reina.  
Fenrik surged into her finding his own release with hard spurts, murmuring and groaning something in his native tongue that Reina could not make out, before collapsing on top of her.  
With an “oof” the air left her lungs. He mumbled “sorry” and carefully rolled from her, to her side, bringing her with him, holding on to her, with what he would likely consider noodle-limp muscles, but arms that still felt strong and reassuring to her. 

After a while the world came back into focus. Sunshine, bird song, cool earth and silky spring grass underneath them. Reina was tracing idly the scar pattern on his impressive pectorals, while Fenrik whose hand was resting on her, was rubbing circles with his thumb on her skin. Feeling the different texture of soft skin and smooth scales.  
Reina could tell that it was the kind of moment she would return to during Reverie.  
She sighed contentedly and then sent a quick pulse of magic energy through her center, just like her grandmother had shown her. Her fae-elf-demon-dragon-heritage made for one hellish fertile mix and this way, there would be no risk. 

A colorful bird was landing not far from them and Reina raised her hand to point it out, whispering, “Look a bluebird.” Instead of at the bird, Fenrik looked at her wrist, which was sporting an impressive bruise that showed distinct fingerprints.  
With an unhappy sound, he pulled her up and turned her so that he could see her sides and hips.  
Half straddling him, Reina watched the display with confusion. With a broad grin she told him: “I see that the feeling in your buttocks has not yet returned. Just saying – if this had been a duel, I would have won, because I drew first blood.” She held up her hand, wiggling her clawed fingertips with a smug look of triumph…


	2. Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fatefinders spend their Downtime after "Sunless Citadel", "Lost City" and "Final Enemy" in merry Waterdeep. Reina is being dedicated to the goddess Mystra to protect her from the influence of her demonic father.  
> Between the adventures, "Sunless Citadel" and "Lost City" Fenrik and Reina became an item. At the start of "Final Enemy" Fenrik told Reina that he loves her, but she has not said that she loves him back, as she has some deep-seated issues with saying those three words.
> 
> After the dedication ceremony the two of them talk and then smut ensues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)
> 
> Attention:  
> The tone of voice is different here, as this chapter was created as a play-by-text story collaboration between the player of Fenrik (AntaresChiaras) and myself; we were writing over several days during April/May 2020  
> This is published with the consent of Fenriks player  
> The original text is in german, translation by me (Tahina)

18th Kythorn, 1492 – Deepwater; the Yawning Portal, after Reina’s "Dedication to Mystra" ceremony

Human barbarian Fenrik enters the Yawning portal after the dwarven druid Torla. She immediately takes care of her dog, who enthusiastically jumps up her leg as he sees her. Fenrik looks and feels tired but at the same time strangely relaxed. His gaze glides searchingly over the taproom.  
The space is brimming. The tables around the well-like shaft leading to the Undermountain are all occupied, the two galleries above are also filled. On the small stage, a lanky, young man plays on a lute that is only strung with three strings. Waiters are walking between the tables with well-filled trays and the grumpy owner of the Yawning Portal, Durnan, taps dark, foamy beer behind the counter.  
There are elves sitting at the tables, but no trace of cleric Ha'ron or bard Reina.  
When asking Bonnie (a red-haired human woman who is balancing a very heavy tray past Fenrik), she replies that the guests he is looking for, have retired to their rooms and ordered something to eat brought up there.

Fenrik thanks her and orders a simple, hearty meal to be brought up as well. He heads for the stairs and goes up to his and Reina's room. Fenrik heads for the stairs and goes up to his and Reina's room. At the door, he seems nervous and hesitant for a moment, then he squares his shoulders and enters.  
"Reina dear, are you there?"

The room is bathed in warm light. A table is set with two chairs ready and waiting.  
Reina is standing at one of the windows. When Fenrik enters, she half turns to him, her gaze strangely empty – no – lost in thought. She blinks and her eyes clear. She comes a few steps closer.  
"Fenrik"

He comes towards her, opening his arms slightly, unsure whether the gesture is welcome.  
"I-I... I'm sorry I left immediately."

Reina closes the distance. She gently wraps her arms around Fenrik and lets her cheek rest against his chest.  
Her voice sounds different than usual, flat and tired.  
"I can't blame you"

Since Fenrik last saw her in the Temple of Mystra, Reina has taken the opportunity to change. She is now wearing a dress made of a flowing, silvery blue material that shimmers like satin - actually more of a nightgown, the straps of which run behind her neck, leaving her back free and giving space to her wings.  
When she approached Fenrik, he catches a glimpse of the V-shaped neckline revealing a silver-colored star on Reina's sternum.

Fenrik takes her in his arms, hugging her close, giving her a gentle squeeze. Reina can smell ozone and incense that is still clinging to his clothes.  
"So… you noticed that I was almost out of control ..."

Reina takes a deep breath and her arms close around him with gentle pressure. As if she wants to hold on to him, stop him from running away.  
"I ... don't know. I heard you," she mumbles. "I could understand what you were saying, even if I couldn't understand the others clearly."  
She swallows hard. The next part is barely audible in the quiet room.  
"... I saw how angry you got ... and I'm sorry ..."

"I wanted to reach you, wanted to help you, give you strength ... Ha`ron had insisted on me not disturbing the ritual; Torla has her magic and I? I only have myself ... so I used the only things remaining... Tempus’ Gift to me and my love for you. "  
He turns so that he can look her in the eye.  
"I wasn't angry, not really ... I was afraid, afraid of losing you, afraid of not being able to help you."  
He swallows.  
"So I used Tempus’ Gift ... it was like a storm in my chest that I was trying to tame with my bare hands. And for a moment, for a golden moment, all I saw was you and I could tame the power, push it into my voice. Not to hit, or destroy, but to call, strengthen ... encourage?" His voice becomes uncertain, trailing off. 

Forced to look up by his turning, Reina’s eyes wander back and forth, looking into his, unsure and searching. As she listens to his words, her gaze seems to have found something. Something to hold on to.

"Whatever you did - it worked! I could hear it through the pain and you - and of course Torla and Ha'ron - strengthened myself against his…" she shudders "influence."  
She looks down - into the space between their bodies.  
"Without me, he would never have been able to show himself. Not in such a holy place" she pauses. "Actually, he didn't really show himself - I think he awakened memories of himself in all of us – through me."

"He was there and not there. I think it was his last act of rebellion, because he knew that he has and never had real power over you. What I said is true; you choose your own fate, and in that you are stronger than him. When I saw how you resisted him, how you asserted yourself, I was so happy, so proud, so relieved. And that was the moment in which I lost control."  
Tears well up in Fenrik's eyes. "Please believe me that I was never angry, especially not with you. When the storm, the rage, came over me, I just wanted to release it in a safe place, where it could do no harm, where I would not harm anyone."

Reina startles, her gaze snapping up, holding his eyes.  
"Is that why you left? So, you weren't ... disappointed in me after all?"  
She bites her lip uncertainly.  
Shaking her head she asks "and you went ..." she wrinkles her nose and sniffs "back to the Hall of Heroes? To release the ‘storm’?" She looks very confused.

Fenrik face turns incredulous. "Disappointed ... in you? I've never been more proud of you!" He holds her tightly in his arms.  
"You faced the One you are most afraid of and asserted yourself. I have never seen you braver."  
He pauses as he registers her question and blushes.

"But I've never been more scared in my life!" Reina protests, not yet noticing his red cheeks.  
"How can you see courage, when I wanted to run away?"

"But you didn't run away and you faced your fear. Not being afraid also means not needing courage." His voice is heavy.

Reina's eyebrows contract doubtfully and the words keep gushing out of her: "But ... but, you looked death in the eye and defied it - forged your fate anew ... and turned your oaths into reality... you always seem so ... so ... so fearless!"

Then his words truly penetrate "Wait a minute ..." Her mouth opens and closes. She softly shakes her head, puts her hands on his cheeks gently pulling Fenrik's head down to her face, examining him closely.  
"You ARE scared, aren't you? You even said so earlier and I just didn't hear, well rather understand it. But you're just as scared as I am?"

"I don’t fear battle and I have little fear of death. But I am constantly afraid of other things. Don't you remember our conversation in Luskan before we went out against the Sahuagin?"

Now Reina's cheeks are just as red as Fenrik's.  
"I remember it well," she mumbles

"I don't know if I would have set off without your help, or if I would have found reason to postpone the quest indefinitely."

"I think I have more faith in you than you do yourself. Because if you ask me – from the point on , when you found Torge, nobody could have stopped you," she gives him a small smile, her cheeks still glowing.

"That may be, but the fear was there anyway, and without your support I would never have acted so decisively. Death and violence may no longer scare me, but the thought of failure haunted me. I understand your feelings from tonight so well. That is why I'm so proud of you."

Emotional exhaustion, confusion, and embarrassment break and release an honestly pleased smile on Reina’s face.  
"Thank you! That really means a lot to me! - And in case you don't already know - I'm very proud of you."

Fenrik looks embarrassed but pleased.  
"Thank you, Reina." He grins, adding sheepishly: "If the City Guard give me angry looks, it is because I may have smashed a rock in front of the Temple of Mystra, while letting out the rage ... but no worries, I have already paid the fine!" He grumbles softly "Nobody could have guessed that boulders are so important to them ..."

Reina looks puzzled for a moment. Her face contracts. It looks like she is ... holding her breath? Then she bursts into laughter and falls into Fenrik's arms.  
Your whole body shaking in a fit of laughter - all the pent-up emotions that were still there after the ritual - uncertainty, fear, etc. discharges in pearly laughter.  
Fenrik looks relieved and holds her gently in his arms, supporting but not restraining her.

The laughter lasts a little longer than may be appropriate for the situation. But after a while it calms down.  
"The Waterdhavians *hick* have always liked stones," says Reine, accompanied by a low, chuckling laugh, interrupted by more little "hiccups" (hiccups), "have you seen their funny *hick* statues?” She giggles “… *hick* One of them leans *hick* up House! *Hick* A house I tell you *hick* and don’t get me starting on the necropolis *hick*" More words are lost as she wipes tears of laughter from her cheeks.

Fenrik smiles understandingly when Reina's tension discharges into humor. “One thing I have definitely learned today: Tempus’ Gifts may not be as one-sided as I thought, and my impression that they are only good for destruction may also be due to my lack of control. This is worth pondering and one of the things I was thinking about in the Hall of Heroes. Maybe I can learn to use them differently."

His hands gently caress the strong limbs of her wings, lost in thought, his fingers play with the silver scales covering their outside.  
Reina's wings involuntarily straighten and stretch under Fenrik's touch, like a cat asking for pats.  
"Did you glean any insight what else you could do with Tempus Gift? What possible uses came to mind?" her voice sounds warm and a languid in the aftermath of the almost hysterical laughing fit.  
"I could put my power in my voice to reach you ... maybe I can repeat that…" he coughs sheepishly "in a more controlled manner?"  
His strong hands caress the place where her wings merge into her back, his head leaning on top of hers.  
"Although I don't know whether my success was only due to my feelings for you, and whether I can repeat and transfer the effect."  
He smiles thoughtfully as one on of his hands slides down her back, while the other rests on her shoulder. Both arms encircle her; he lowers himself a bit so that they are at eye level.  
"I know that I never felt for anyone else as I did for you," he whispers softly into her ear.

Fenrik can feel the shiver that slides down Reina’s back under his hands. Whether this is due to his words, his touch, or both is difficult to say. She clears her throat, her eyes avoiding his.  
"Your voice has power - and certainly not only over me. As a bard, I can tell you that practice makes perfect. It depends on a try. Maybe if you try it on someone else ..."  
She interrupts the torrent of speech about how to set up a series of experiments, that want to pour out of her, without even having being asked. Not only her cheeks are flushed now, it seems like everything about her is glowing with embarrassment.  
"What you said in Luskan ... What you are also suggesting now ..." the tip of a fang-like canine is clearly visible as it bites into her lower lip,  
"It's not that I don't feel it too ..."

She sighs from the bottom of her soul, then looks contrite into his eyes as she turns her head to him. The tip of their noses just a hair's breadth away from each other. Her own smell of elderflower, fresh snow and cider, perfumes the air sweet and heady.  
"You say I choose my own fate. But fate chooses as well. And the last time I said these fateful words, a lot was taken from me," she looks at him seriously, her breath fanning over him, cooler than that of a person, thanks to the dragon's blood in her ancestry.  
"And I'm scared, because this time I know more. My choice would be a real one. And - I have more to lose…"

Fenrik looks deep into her eyes; his voice becomes deeper and more insistent.  
"You don't have to do anything, or say anything, that you are not comfortable with, that you don't really want. I am here and I only leave if you send me away. Everything you give is a gift that I value more than anything else. And one doesn’t ask for gifts and one does not expect more than is given voluntarily and with joy. "  
As if his skin was heating up under her breath, his arms and chest warm, as his hands slide apart, resting one on her left hip and one on her right shoulder. Supportive, solid, but without the strength to hold onto her slim figure.

"Well spoken!" Reina returned his deep look, her voice quieter, but just as urgent as his.  
"So, for the time being I will leave unsaid what is dear to my heart and lies on the tip of my tongue," an unfathomable smile plays on her full lips, "and in the meantime I hope that you believe in the old adage of ‘deeds weigh more heavily than words’."

Her hands, which had rested on his hips, slide forward, over his flanks, seemingly to smooth the fabric of his shirt, until they come to rest over his chest where the shirt can be opened, almost touching. Her gaze catches his as she leans against him, practically leaning on her forearms, nestling against him. Her fingertips just touch the little sliver of skin that his shirt reveals at the neckline.

"What is about you Northman?" her smile widens and she winks at him, "when you are courteous and thoughtful, something inside of me wants to see you thoughtless and unleashed. And when you offer to set me free," her gaze slides for a moment to his hand on her right shoulder, "then I wish nothing more, than for you to hold me tight and never letting go."  
"Then I'll do all of these things for you." Desire sparkles in Fenrik's eyes, but his voice is calm and almost solemn. "I can be an anchor instead of a chain, and your wind – as a gentle breeze, or like a hurricane."  
He steps closer so that Reina can feel the heat radiating of his body. His hands detach from her body, wander up, caressing her neck and cheeks, up to her curved horns.  
His powerful fingers gently caress the shape of her horns, then down the back of her head and from there to her neck.  
Fenrik's lips meet hers as he pulls her closer, his own wild smell overpowering that of incense. He kisses her with wild passion, demanding and hungry, while his right hand caresses her neck and his left arm wraps around her waist.

Reina gives herself into his. It was like a dance. She allowed his tongue to conquer her mouth first, but then pushed him back into his, searching, playing.  
Her hands had been "trapped" between their bodies, now she let her left hand slide into the neckline of his shirt and caressed the skin that had been hidden under the linen. Her right hand was trying to work its way down and sideways to pull him even closer to her.

Only partially satisfied with her progress, Reina decided to use her special physique to her advantage. She knew by now that he (unlike those before him) was not put off by her otherness. Whenever he touched her wings or horns so naturally (just like now), a thrill and a shiver of bliss went through her.  
She let her right hand slide down a little further for a short moment to press his buttocks at the same time appreciatively and playfully. And as if he wanted to encourage her further, Fenrik's tongue made its way back into her mouth, his tongue intertwining with hers. But she loosened her grip on his buttock and before he could protest, she grabbed the skirt of her dress just above her knee with her right hand and gathered the smooth material up to free her legs. Thanking the gods that the room was so big, she unfolded her wings for a single flap, which helped her to wrap - without breaking the kiss - both legs around Fenrik's waist with a small skillful hop.

Fenrik's left hand, freed by the clasp of Reina's legs, wandered up and found its place on her bare back between her wings. His right hand slid from the back of her neck to Reina's collarbone and further down, bringing the untied top of her gown with it.  
The silk material slipped from her breasts, the pale skin dotted by silver scales, which Fenrik's hand caressed eagerly. Warm, slightly rough linen material rubbed tantalizing over her bare left breast, while his hand clasped the other. His thumb circling around her pink nipple. The smell of rain on dry earth increased as his body warmed with increasing excitement and the fabric of his pants was pressed against her bare abdomen by his swelling muscles.

They were now as close as one can get while still wearing clothes.  
The deep kiss, his warm hands on her and the proof of his increasing excitement could be clearly felt between her legs. The smell of ozone and petrichor as strong as the sizzling desire between the two lovers.

Reina wrapped her arms around Fenrik. Her right hand gently cupped his neck to deepen the kiss. Her left arm rested across his shoulders, below her right hand, her left resting on his right shoulder. With this additional hold, she was now able to loosen her pelvis a little bit to rub against him in sensual circles. Meanwhile, her folded wings created a cocoon around the two of them that shut the world out.

Fenrik relished the deep kiss for a long time, inhaling Reina's scent deeply. Her circling hips made him moan, and for a moment of sweet agony, his mouth came away from hers.  
Longing for the feeling of her skin on his, but unwilling to let go of her, Fenrik grabbed the collar of his tunic with both hands. A brief tensing of his muscles and the tortured fabric gave way, tearing open and apart along the neckline.  
Reina lost her footing for a moment as the fabric lost all shape under her hands and slid down the swelling muscles. With a chuckle, Fenrik caught her in his bare arms, drawing her barely clothed form to his also now bare chest. His mouth found hers again, as he savored the feeling of bare, soft skin and smooth scales against his flesh.

Reina laughed delightedly as the tunic suddenly bit the dust. Embraced by his strong arms, she enjoyed the warm muscular splendor. Her body was naturally colder - but her scales, like the silver coins they were vaguely reminiscent of, could absorb heat from outside sources and Fenrik's body seemed to be a wellspring of infinite strength and warmth.  
With one last playful bite into Fenrik's full lower lip, Reina broke the kiss. She winked at him and breathed: "I was just about to complain that there is too much clothing between us." She laughed softly, her lips raspberry red from kissing.  
"If you allow me, I will take care of the rest?" Her pupils dilated with excitement, turned her eyes into dark lakes, deep enough to sink into as she held Fenrik's gaze.  
He nodded and she pulled away from him. A movement that was unnaturally graceful.  
Then, standing in front of him, wriggle of her rounded hips ensured that her dress slipped over her pelvis and down her legs, forming a silver circle of fabric around her feet.

She let her left hand slide down the middle of his body, pausing at the waistband of his trousers. With a wicked look, she tugged on the laces as if she wanted to open them. Then she shook her head, not turning her gaze from his.  
Completely naked, she concentrated. With a low hum that seemed to cool the air around her noticeably, the smell of ozone was suddenly superimposed by the scent of snow about to fall and Reina manifested three shards of ice. She held one of them in her right hand, the other two between the free claws, at the top of her wings.

Her gaze full of sin, she closed the distance again and before Fenrik knew it, the three razor-sharp ice blades had cut his trousers in three different places. And the remains of his trousers fell down like petals - the shaft of his low Viking boots turning into the calyx of the flower.

With a delighted laugh, Reina threw away the three blades, which turned them to snow on hitting the wall by the fireplace.  
"I think we're even now? Your trousers for my leggings, Northman."

Grinning broadly, Fenrik kicked his boots off his feet along with the pathetic remains of his trousers, which flew across the room in exuberance.  
"You may have my trousers, but I'll still get my price."  
With strong hands, Fenrik graspes the slightly averted beauty and lifts her up with ease. Two quick steps and he sets her on the ledge of the fireplace next to which the last of the snowflakes sank to the ground.

His face now level with her stomach, he lets her legs rest on his broad shoulders, while his tongue and lips wander from her left thigh over her pubic mound to her right thigh.

Slowly wandering towards the bewitchingly scented place between her legs, he raises his eyes. Half to admire the enchanting shape of his beloved, as she leans against the tapestry over the fireplace. Half to find her eyes with his look full of heartfelt feelings and to seek consent to his unspoken question.  
Reina lolls lasciviously against the thick, slightly scratchy tapestry. Her hands seek additional support on the ledge as she gently slides the sole of her right foot over Fenrik's back. Her eyes meeting his gaze, she looks strangely vulnerable for a moment. But what can be read in his eyes, seems to strengthen her resolve and anchor her in the moment. Her eyelids heavy, the expression on her face enigmatic, almost shy, as she bites her lower lip, nodding her consent. Her lower body trustingly glides forward an inch, her thighs parting wider for him.

Fenrik's lips wander slowly and with pleasure down her thigh in hot kisses, savoring the moment fully. His caresses first tease her pubic mound before turning deeper, towards her ambrosial gate. His tongue ran gently down her outer lips, almost playfully, savoring her reactions. Only gradually does he turn to the inner labia, in gentle swings of increasing intensity. Despite his efforts, his beard gently tickles her open thighs, while his hot breath seems to touch her insides. His tongue carefully explores her entrance, playing around every point that elicits pleasurable reactions, becoming increasingly secure. The faster her breaths come, the more they incite him, but without making his caresses erratic.  
Reina quietly enjoyes the tickling and scratching of his beard. And the looks that Fenrik sends up her body. She forces herself not to throw her head back or to close her eyes, but to look back at him for as long as possible; taking in the tableau they both create.

Her left hand loosens grip on the mantelpiece to slide over the smooth skin of his head. The gentle pressure against the back of his head asks him to worship the wonderful spot he licking *harder*. Her voice has that smoky, velvety tone that Fenrik only hears when they are alone. "I’m so close... Fenrik, please..."

Encouraged by Reina's voice, Fenrik lets his tongue dance in varying circles around and over her pearl. His hands wander over her body, up to her breasts, which he also caressed.  
Soon he finds the rhythm that makes her shouts of pleasure louder and then turns her breathless, her back arching. Afterwards she pants, her body trembling with aftershocks.  
His hands carefully let go of her breasts, to caresses and supports her body on top the mantelpiece, wanting her to fully enjoy her climax.

When her limbs slackened, the trembling stopped and her gaze was languid from spent lust, he gently lifts her to him, to let both of them sink together on the fur in front of the fireplace, Reina hugging his chest and sitting on his thigh. With her head level with his face, Fenrik plants a kiss on her forehead. Then deeply inhales the scent of her hair. Only the pressing hardness of his member between them betrayes how much the fire still blazes inside him.  
For a few breaths and heartbeats, Reina couldn't muster any more will or movement than a doll. She takes a deep breath of Fenrik's wild scent, drunk from his touch and the afterglow of the climax; she listens to the beating of his heart.  
But that something persistently pressing against her side, pulls her out of her revelry. A grin, like that of the cat that caught the canary, slides across her face. She raises her head, blows a look of her long red hair from her forehead, hooking some of the curls behind one of her horns.

"I would have sliced your trousers sooner, had I known that this would be the *price* for it," she says to him in her husky, rough-silk ‘bedroom voice’.  
"And speaking of *retaliation* - I hope you are ready for another *revenge*."  
Straightening her left wing brushes against his genitals as if by chance. Letting out a deep breath, Fenrik could see how the exhale formed a cool cloud in front of her mouth and that she suddenly held a lump of ice about the size of her thumb in her hand.  
She kisses him on the mouth, her lips leaving a tingly, cool feeling behind that excites him. She kisses his jaw, down his neck, and then follows one of the lightning scars down the plane of his hard pectoral muscles with her lips. All the while, she carefully moves the lump of ice over his right nipple in circles, leaving cool moisture and a tingling sensation behind.

Then she moves the ice to the left nipple, drawing a circle there, while she continues to kiss her way down, following along the scar. Where the abdominal muscles are clearly visible under the soft skin and the scars, she sometimes leaves the ‘track’ here and there to trace the indentation between the muscles with her tongue, painting him with moist lines.

Working her way down steadily, the little lump of ice follows her on the way. She draws a circle around his belly button, when she passes his thigh – again following the scar. Out of the corner of her eye she can see that Fenrik and his muscles practically vibrate under her kisses and the tingly coolness of the ice. And his manhood looks also more than ready as well.

Gazing up along his muscled body, she sees Fenrik's almost pleading face. The little lump of ice is almost completely gone. She lets the last tiny bit melt into his bellybutton with a wide smile. Her fingers draw damp traces over his abdomen as she, sitting on his thigh, places both hands to the left and right of his genitals. She looks from his manhood, at the tip of which a drop of pleasure is forming, up to read Fenrik's face. She cocks her head with an almost challenging grin and the raised eyebrow clearly questioning.

"What do you wish for?" Her velvety voice is another caress, her fingers draw idle, small circles, so close, but never quite touching the part of him that literally reaches out towards them.  
"Reinaaaa ..." in Fenrik's voice mix protest and warning. She chuckles.  
“Forgive me, of course you are right. You didn't keep me waiting and for true *retribution* it is of course not fair to keep you waiting, "she tries to give her seductive look a contrite note, without having much success.  
With a gentle, sure grip she encircles his cock. Feels the skin like warm silk wrapped over the hardness of steel and gently pulls it back to reveal the head of his penis. With the tip of her rosy tongue, she takes in the drops that shimmer in the light of fire, candles and magical lights. Tasting not ozone, but the sea and an unmistakable masculine note.

With a quick glance up at his face, trying to gauge his reaction, she sees that he has thrown his head back, his hands gripping the fur beneath them.  
Reina exhales her cool breath over him, before she lovingly wraps her full lips around the swell of the glans. Alternately sucking, applying gentle pressure or letting her tongue circle around it, while moving her hands rhythmically up and down his rock-hard shaft.

A groan like the growling of a huge beast escapes Fenrik's lips as his excitement nears madness. His hands claw the fur beneath him as he fights the urge to grab her and conquer her body here and now.  
He raises his head to say something, but the sight of Reina, willingly pleasuring his manhood, takes his breath away, making his mind quake with pleasure through Reina's lustful play, combined with the sheer eroticism of her sight.  
"Sharess, how do I deserve this?" flits through his mind. When his hips rise against his will and a hot embers build up like a volcano inside his loins.

Spurred on by his involuntary rearing up, Reina intensifies her efforts. Taking his member deeper into her mouth. With the greatest care for her sharp fangs, she gently presses his cock against the roof of her mouth. With the upward movement of her lips, she pulls her cheeks in a little, holding the resulting vacuum when sliding back down, while letting rapid tongue strokes flutter between the glans and the shaft.

Fenrik's breath grows louder and choppier as Reina's caress drives him to the edge of his self-control and beyond. The smell of ozone rising sharply from him as his huge body tenses with a choked groan and the glow of his lust surges. His moan is the only warning Reina gets before his hot semen began to spurts out.

Reina drinks deeply from the well of his lust, avidly absorbing everything. Her mouth and hands accompany Fenrik through his climax and the moment after. She breaks away just in time before her touch becomes too intense. Looking with an expression of deepest tenderness down at the giant felled by passion.

She memorizes the moment. Lockes it up with others of the evening and his words in her heart, so that she would be able to visit them repeatedly in Reverie.

She laying down, she hugs Fenrik lengthways, covering his body with her left wing, her left leg hooks around his, her head resting on his shoulder. Although her ear is not resting directly over his heart, she can still feel his furious pounding pulse.

Fenrik slips his left arm under her to hold her in turn, and lowers his face to kiss Reina's head. He inhales deeply the smell of cider and fresh snow that seems to cling to her like a perfume. His right arm moves under the hug of Reina's wing so that his hand can gently caress her cheek. His breathing becomes deeper, pulse slower, but his body seems to take Reina’s body’s coldness as a challenge, and radiates a pleasant warmth.

Reina lolls in this perfect embrace, absorbing his warmth like a cat in the sun. Her left hand steals up from under the wing as well. Gently stroking his forearm, enjoying the feeling of muscles hardened by seafaring and warfare, soft skin and tiny hairs that tickle her palm.  
Sliding down his arm, her hand comes to rest on his.  
She turns her face to press a kiss on the palm of his hand. Following an impulse, she lets her tongue draw a moist circle over the palm of his hand near the wrist, inflaming the sensory nerves there. With her left hand, gripping his right tighter, she makes space to slide from the palm of his hand to the ball of his thumb, then up the thumb to suck it into her mouth - in a way that is absolutely reminiscent of what had happened earlier.  
Reina looks Fenrik in the eyes from under the now slightly raised wing.  
A hot look that promises everything, but asks nothing.

Fenrik returns her gaze with a big smile that seems to make him years younger. In his eyes is no longer the wild desire that had previously blazed in him like a wild fire, but a warm glow that speaks of deep desire.  
Fenrik turns his body slightly towards hers and using his left arm to pull her closer. Withdrawing his thumb from her mouth, his hand caresses her cheek and up to her ear, from there over her slender neck to her collarbone, in order to then lovingly explore her shapely body. With the experience of the last few weeks, his fingers find the alternating pressure to caress both silver scales and cream-colored skin. His mouth kissing her wet lips before gently biting and kissing the side of her neck.

Reina cocked her head willingly to give him better access. Her eyes close with fluttering lids as he gently bites into the muscle just below her ear and a hoarse sound that was half sigh and half moan escape her.  
Her body had warmed up noticeably from his proximity, nevertheless, or maybe because of it Fenrik could feel that the skin between the silver scales contracts into wonderful goose bumps.  
"Do you know what I like most about your beard?" She whispers.  
"Hmmmh?" Fenrik's question is more felt in the humming sound that vibrated inside him than heard as he kisses her earlobe and nibble on the shell.  
"If you kiss me - no matter *where*," the fingernails of her left hand, which had moved to his shoulder in the meantime, dig into his skin, "then it tickles wonderfully," the pressure of her nails is gentle as she scratches playfully down the long back muscle, without breaking the skin.  
"But the best thing is ..." She groans loudly as he gently bites into the tip of her ear - Reina's ear, especially the tip, was like that of most elves, as erogenous as a nipple.  
"The best ..." she tries to concentrate and finish the sentence she has begun, although Fenrik now laved the bite and sucks firmly on it, which suddenly increases the moisture that was already collecting between her thighs and made her fingernails bite hard into his glutes.  
"The best thing is that, because of earlier, I can smell myself in it, when you kiss me."

Grinning, Fenrik rubs his beard through her face, forcing Reina to pull back giggling.  
Chuckling he grasps the opportunity to slide a little deeper and pull her back to him. His face now level with her breasts, the pulling makes sure that his face is buried between her breasts. Without paying even a second of attention to the new mark of Mystra there, he begins to cover her with kisses while his right hand gently kneads her bottom.  
A pleased sigh escapes his lips as he loses himself in the smell and touch of her body, against her thigh Reina can clearly feel how his slack manhood quickly hardens again.

Hiding her delighted grin behind the hand she rubs over her face to chase away the urge to sneeze that the tickling of his beard produced.  
Over her lover’s head, she looks longingly at the large four-poster bed, with its posts and the embroidered canopy, but Fenrik's mouth, which now moves purposefully from one erogenous zone to the next and threatens to make her loose her mind again with lustful tongue-slaps, makes her quickly shrug of the idea of continuing their lovemaking elsewhere.  
"Beds are overrated anyway," thought Reina as a new plan takes shape.

Because he had turned to her, Reina's left leg was now between his. She carefully pulles out her thigh and wraps it around his right leg instead of his left, his loin briefly coming into intimate contact with her pussy. Fenrik groans loudly and seemingly wanting to use his hand on her bottom to unite them intimately. But Reina had other plans.  
Pushing his head closer to her bosom, she uses his momentum (like a swing) to turn him all the way onto his back so that she sits astride him. With a surprised huff, Fenrik's breath escapes. Reina laughs softly. Her knees are now to the left and right of his hip as she moves her body like a wave over his. The resulting circles lead to her breasts moving playfully against his face, while her lap stroke enticingly over his further hardening manhood.

Fenrik enjoys the feeling of Reina's body on his while he continues to kiss her breasts. However, it had not escaped his keen senses that she had looked towards the bed and he is more than ready to take her there. Since he enjoyed her closeness and the sizzling tension of the situation too much to interrupt the lovemaking, his right hand wanders onto Reina's bottom as if by itself, playing around the moist warmth between her thighs with his long, strong fingers. His left arm slides down her back, just below the wings. Suddenly he grabs and hugs Reina's body tightly, which elicits a bell-like laugh from his beloved, but instead of rolling her onto her back, as she expected, he holds her tightly with both arms and then stands up with a swing, Reina still in his arms. The momentum of the movement might have topple them down again, but Reina spreads her wings once more and stabilizes him.

Giggling in unison and hugging closely, Fenrik carries Reina to the bed. Once there, he leans slightly backwards, whereupon Reina instinctively grabs the bedpost with her wings and ducks her head. Loosening the embrace, Fenrik falls backwards into bed, disposing himself and his beloved into the flurry of blankets and pillows that had already been rumpled by earlier lovemaking when they moved in at noon.

"Nobody should say that a northerner doesn't appreciate a good bed, especially with such a Sharess-pleasing sight in it" are his words as he throws himself into a deep kiss with renewed enthusiasm.  
Even more than the deep kiss on her mouth, his words caress a sore point on her soul. So much had happened today. Old and new memories threaten to surge up - and the way he looked at her. For a moment, she can taste the unspoken words on the tip of her tongue again. She almost says them. Is so close, but still they words stay inaccessible to her.

Shutting her eyelids tightly to hold back hot, bitter tears that suddenly rise in her eyes, she plunges into Fenrik's kiss with fiery enthusiasm, her hands slide over him as if in a fever, fleeing into the safe haven of his arms.  
Although he did not understand the reason for her sudden tension, her need for closeness and security was evident to him. Strong arms wrap tightly around her, holding her securely. Fenrik turns so that Reina comes to lie under him, still holding her in his arms, but supporting himself with his elbows so that his huge body arches over her. There is enough space between them that Reina's hands can wander freely, but at the same time she is wrapped in a warm cocoon of bed, blankets, pillows and Fenrik himself.

When his body erases the world from her field of vision, Reina opens her eyes again. His face, in which time had left traces, seems as familiar to her despite the short time they’ve been together, as her own in the mirror. Maybe even more so, with the curse that was only recently broken. His smell of an approaching storm grounds her. "Only the now matters," becomes a mantra in her head.

"Sharess, hmm?" She smiles at him from the safety of the "cocoon". Then she starts to sing softly in Mulhorandi. In the common tongue translated it means something like this:

“Tonight I want to give you everything and all of me.  
There are so many things I want to do in the dark.  
Tonight I want to lay everything at your feet  
because i was made for you and you were made for me."

But the original sounded more sensual, in Reina's opinion, and hides the fact that she is beginning to weave magic into the words. As the words fade, Fenrik, whose thumb gently stroked her cheek as she sang for him, could feel that her magical ability as a sorcereress *moved* him just like it had during the fight against the sahuagin.  
At the same time, Reina dips her body for a brief moment into the mists of the Feywild. When she re-emerges from the fog, she appears kneeling in front of Fenrik, who has since been moved a good way up the bed. The claws of her wings grab the top two bedposts and her hands grip the carved headboard of the bed. She looks at him over her shoulder with a smug, defiant grin.  
"As you mention the cat-headed goddess - everyone knows what pleases her."  
Fenrik returns her grin with a genuinely pleased smile that expresses both admiration for her feat as well as anticipation to comply with the request.  
He slides forward so that his abdomen with its stiff member rests against her well-rounded backside that was so provocatively stretched towards him.  
With his arms outstretched, his hands begin to caress Reina's body. Knowledgeable fingers caress her neck and back, caressing the sensitive growing points of wings and all the way down her back, towards her bottom.  
Using his left hand as a support, Fenrik leans over Reina's back to draw a trail of hot kisses from neck to ear and finally, as before, to devote himself to the tip of her ear.

In the meantime, his right hand begins to caress the sensitive wings, while his abdomen involuntarily rubs against Reina's bottom in a primal rhythm. Reina's voice iss lost between lascivious moans and gasped protests at the sweet torture as Fenrik's caresses increase her excitement. More and more demanding, she rubs her butt against his abdomen, feverishly waiting for their union.  
As the damp heat of her thighs become evident, Fenrik leans back to the crook of her neck with one last kiss. Resting on his calves, Fenrik grasps his hard member and carefully guides it between the readily opened thighs.  
Instead of immediately storming her gate with hard strokes, he leads the glans of his member along the lips of her pussy, rubbing along the entrance of her body like a farmer plows the furrow, always paying attention to the engorged nub at the top, caressing her clit with the tip of his cock. 

With each of these passages, he can feel Reina's body tense in anticipation, only to then groan and shudders as he refuses to give in to her desire.  
Meanwhile it is no longer possible to understand what she is uttering between the voluptuous noises, since she has fallen into her lyrical mother tongue, but the protesting and demanding tone makes it easy to imagine the content.

The grip of her wings loosen a little, as do her hands on the headboard. They slide down to claw into the carving below, just above the mattress, as she lowers her torso into an Uttana Shishosana position in an instinctive attempt to trick his controlled movement and bring about their union. But even though this brings her bottom into even closer contact with him, Fenrik doesn't let the changed angle fool him.

Looking along the length of her own body, Reina can see how his phallus parts the rosy vulva lips, swollen with excitement, moistened by the nectar of her body, which also glistens on her thighs, with his controlled movements.  
The sight is undeniably the most erotic thing she has seen so far and almost brings her to climax. But Fenrik stops, when he feel the beginning of contractions at the entrance of her body. Her intimate flesh quivering and waiting for him to plunge into. Caressing his big warm hand comfortingly over her lower back, he waits for the moment to pass before resuming his movement.  
A word escapes her that, lyrical or not, is even for Fenrik obvious as an obscenity. His own breathing is heavy with excitement and concentration, like that of a horse that is ridden too hard.  
Meanwhile, Reina cannot take her eyes off the sight. She is on the verge of sobbing, or simply demanding, no begging, that he should take her, *now*, when a single clear thought crosses her fevered mind.  
Abruptly she stops squirming and it becomes so suspiciously quiet, that even his delicious torture seems to lose rhythm for a moment and becomes hesitant. Fenrik is about to ask, if everything is okay when a few elven words clear as a bell, break the silence.

Reina's right hand, which he could clearly see over her body and between the wings, has come loose and makes a single small movement. And although he could see both Reina's hands up there, light on the dark wood, there is suddenly a third cool hand on his shaft, which, with certain pressure from below, ensures that his member unexpectedly does not go through the vulvar lips and past her entrance, but unexpectedly thrust straight into it. Conquering and at the same time been conquered himself.

A choked moan fights its way over Fenrik's lips when he finds himself so suddenly united with his beloved. His self-control broken, there is no will left and he gives in to their shared desire. Holding onto her flanks with both hands and caressing them, he begins to move rhythmically. Every single thrust causing new feelings of happiness and waves of excitement to surge through his body. With one hand on her hip, he skillfully modulates the depth and angle of the thrust to give Reina the greatest possible pleasure. Every shudder, every groan is a victory spurring his efforts on.  
His free hand wanders feverishly over her body, here stimulating the sensitive tips of the wings, there caressing her breasts under her body. In their shared excitement, they both find each other, for a magical moment their minds are free of any thought as their bodies merge in a primal rhythm.

Eventually the thrusts become faster and faster, than Fenrik felt, as if a mighty tidal wave of hot pleasure were rising in his loins. Then he loses all mastery over himself, her name falling from his lips as his semen pulses into her willing body. Fenrik is shaking all over as he reaches his climax and a feeling of deepest happiness flows through him.  
In a tangle of arms, legs and wings and with trembling limbs, their bodies unravel and then, lying next to each other, entwine themselves again, enjoying the afterglow together.

It takes a while until Reina lifts her head tiredly and with a few erratic hand movements can collect enough magic to clean both of them and with *mage hand* pull a blanket up to spread it over both of them.

It takes even longer before she notices that her left hand is still clutching something. With a puzzled blink, she looks at the elongated something. Her cheeks heat up, but this time out of embarrassment when she shows Fenrik the wooden head and neck of a swan with an embarrassed laugh. Not otherwise known for muscle strength, she had broken it out of the carving in ecstasy.

"It's good that I have new tricks up my sleeve thanks to you," she tells Fenrik in a velvety rough voice as she leans over him to complete the swan with magic.  
Fenrik's laugh rings like a bronze bell over both of them as he pulls Reina close and snuggls into the sheets with her. A sweet exhaustion seizes both of them, and they soon fall into a brief, happy slumber.


	3. Fired up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our campaign started with "Sunless Citadel" (Tales from the Yawning Portal), after that we played "Lost City" a homebrew module and then "Final Enemy" (Ghost of Saltmarsh).  
> Before we went to "White Plume Mountain" this scene occured - at least if you ask me ;3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

End of Kythorn, 1492, Neverwinter Wood, close to the Circle of Thunder

They had been triumphant once more. The “Circle of Thunder” was no longer a danger to the folks living in and around Neverwinter Forest. “Gorthok – the Thunderboar” had been sent back to his home plane. With the still almost giant Fenrik (enlarge potions can do that to you) in tow, Reina made sure, that the hillside would be safe, so that the other two members of their adventuring party Ha’ron and Torla could investigate the caves beneath the henge in peace.

After a complete circuit, dealing with the remaining sentries in the forest around the hill with the henge, both were confident that they had taken care of the Talos cultists. They also spent enough time, hunting for cultists that the effect of the “Potion of Growth” had worn off. Fenrik, who was already an impressively large and imposing figure with his shaved head, dark beard, bare chest packed with hard muscles and covered in feathery looking scars where Tempus’ lightning had “kissed” his skin. Not to forget the enchanted items, protecting him and spell worked weapons he wielded. He had drunk the potion so he could fight the Thunderboar, a ginormous creature, eye to eye.

Clearing out the last cultists in the woods, Reina had used her Fey’ri given wings to play air-support, using ranged spells and searching for their enemies from over the tree canopy. Now she landed not far from Fenrik. “I think we got them all. At least I can’t see any more of those Talos worshippers.”

Fenrik had watched her descent; she was looking left and right, as if anyone would be able to sneak up on them, he thought he could see her pointed ears tremble, as she listened around. That she was still searching their surroundings, granted him a moment to admire her figure in the new robe she had gotten in Waterdeep.  
The magical garment, made her look even more fey, despite her dragon wings and horns. It left her arms, back and part of her midriff bare, the silver and gold neck holder top being held up, by only a thin strip of cloth. In addition the material (magical or not) was soaked by rainwater and clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating her breasts and long shapely legs.

The Northman had not moved from where he stood, watching her slightly entranced, by her movements, as she nodded, seemingly satisfied with their clean-up and moved toward him, coming to a halt, when they were almost chest-to-chest.  
With a smile, she crocked her head and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

Fenrik’s face softened from battle-ready to affectionate – Reina’s autumn red hair, darkened by the rain, was plastered to her neck and shoulders, the silver scales dusting her cheekbones and temples luminous, water drops making them shimmer in the twilight. Her eyes looked like pools of starlight in the gloom. She was ethereal and lovely, and his heart skipped a beat, when her eyes told him what was in her heart, not with words, but with one look alone, as always.

Closing the distance, cradling her jaw in his big hands, he leaned down, letting his lips move gently over hers, back and forth, savoring the softness of her full lips. Her mouth tasted of winter and magic, of beauty and secrets. He longed for her to (one day) share all of those with him.

His Fey’ri lover sighed and unable to help himself, Fenrik’s tongue flicked along the small opening the sound had created, coaxing her lips to part, and then he licked deep. With a soft moan, Reina wrapped her arms around his neck, molding her entire body to his – and the kiss ignited.

Her mouth was soft, wet and open on his, her tongue circling, teasing, and retreating. Fenrik groaned, running his hands over her horns, sinking his fingers into the wet strands of her full hair below them. She was passion embodied, meeting him thrust for thrust and lick for lick.  
Reina was not necessarily shy, but private with shows of affection and when their adventuring party was around, she at most gave him a soft kiss on the cheek or a caress on the arm, but when they were alone? Then she threw herself wholly into a kiss, holding back nothing. Kissing him as if the world was about to end. 

Those kisses were the most erotic and intoxicating things he had ever known. As evidenced by the appearance of an “additional axe handle” in his trousers, rivaling those of the weapons on the barbarians back, or fastened to his belt.  
He canted his hips backward, not wanting her to think that he expected anything from her, out here in the rain and forest after a long afternoon of fighting. But Reina’s hips followed his, until she arched like a bow in his arms, her body seeking his warmth, rubbing against him, like a cat.  
He tore his mouth from hers, looking down at her with wild eyes. Her lips had parted on a sigh, the last rays of a watery sunset, that found their way to them, glistening on her hair, the water darkened curls cascading over porcelain shoulders sprinkled with silver dragon scales. He drank her in, her beauty transcendent in the greenwood’s twilight. She was something else – a fairytale creature come to steal the hearts of mere mortals.

Blinking her eyes open, he could see that her pupils were blown wide and that there was mischief glimmering in their depths.  
“Still fired up from the fight I see,” she said with a sassy grin.  
He gave an unbelieving snort, “That has nothing to do with the fight and everything with you in my arms.”  
She blushed, but looked pleased. “Well, we cleaned the hillside of those cultists really quick – we should have some time at our hands, before our friends will start searching for us...” Her voice trailed off suggestively. 

Fenrik looked over her shoulder at one of the big pine trees and gave her a wicked grin, his teeth a flash of white in his dark beard. Reina turned her head to follow his gaze. She looked back at him and he let his eyebrows wag.

“No, absolutely not,” she said.  
“No - what?” he asked, feigning innocence.  
“No sex up against that tree,” she countered.  
“I seem to remember that you liked it very much, the last time we had sex up against a tree,” he lowered his head to give her another heated kiss.

“That was a beech tree and NOT a pine,” she protested, her voice sounding breathless from kissing, “look at this one – no branches to hold on to and it would shred my skin with its rough bark,” her wings rustled, when she pulled her shoulders up protectively.

Fenriks face softened again. He let his hands glide over Reina’s shoulders and down her arms, wrapping his own around her waist, hugging her to him, his hands gliding up between her wings, rubbing the sensitive spots, where they grew from her back.  
Over the soft noise escaping her throat, he said, "Don't worry, no sex up against pine trees then.”  
He looked down. “And with your gorgeous new robe, getting it filthy on the muddy floor, is also out of the question, I gather?" 

He peppered her cheeks, yaw and the side of her neck with open-mouthed kisses, and then bowed down, picking her up, seemingly without effort, before she had a chance to answer.  
"But how about this?" he carried her over to a fallen tree and in sitting down, placed her on his lap.  
She laughed in delight; her arms loped around his neck, her legs straddling his hips.  
“This I can work with,” she kissed him on his grinning lips.

Shifting to make sure that his seat on the log was secure, he then deftly and quickly undid the fastening of the robe’s top, peeling the wet cloth from her skin, baring her chest to the waist.  
“I have to say,” Fenrik said with a bright smile, “I really, really like this new robe.”  
Reina chuckled, grinding her hips against him, making him groan with need, “I can tell and if you like that, then I have another surprise for you.” However, Fenrik was no longer paying attention, or rather only paying attention to the pale, pink tipped mound of her right breast, that he had already started kneading with his left hand. His head lowered to kiss the other, licking and kissing the rosy peak that was eagerly awaiting him. 

Reina was biting her lower lip, enjoying his ministrations, but determined not to lose her train of thought. She took his right hand, guiding it under the bunched up skirt of her robe.  
He knew that Reina always wore leggings to protect her modesty while flying, so he was not surprised, to feel the thin cloth of the tight trews. Then she revealed a place where the cloth overlapped and easily parted, his fingertips suddenly brushing against the silky soft skin of her upper thigh and already damp curls.  
Releasing her nipple, he looked up grinning, “As I said – I really, really, really like your new robe!”

Letting his fingers slide deeper into the slippery valley between her legs, he pressed carefully into her. He enjoyed her surprised cry of pleasure, when he plunged deep, listening to her breath as it hitched and then wheezed out of her, the walls of her vagina clinging to his finger, the pad of this thumb meanwhile circling the engorged clit. Her thrown back head brought her firm, perky breasts closer to his face, as he pulled her even closer with his left arm.  
Between his hot mouth sucking now on her left nipple and his right hand working between her legs, she soon bit her lips again, but this time to keep in the wanton sounds, he was wringing from her.

“I am starting to think, that in truth you’re the one that’s ‘fired up’ here”, he chuckled softly, adding another finger, to press into her. Then curling both of them upwards and to the front to massage a spot inside her that had a sponge-like quality. With two fingers inside of her and his thumb pressing down, it took not much longer, until she pressed her face to the side of his neck, biting the spot, where the shoulder connected to his nape, to muffle a cry, her arms locked round him, holding on for dear life. 

He held her, pulling her even closer. When he felt her inner muscles contracting around his fingers, he kissed her temple and the tip of her elegant, pointed ear. Fenrik enjoyed how that made her shiver even more. Delighted in Reina clinging trembling to him, trustingly giving herself to him. Not just letting him bring her to climax, but all the trust she had shown towards him.  
Were they still back in their room in Waterdeep, he would have let her cool down, before stoking the fire again, but as it was, he could barely contain himself and there was no telling how much more time, they would have. Therefore, he pulled his fingers from her pulsating sheath, her flesh hot, slippery and swollen, seemingly unwilling to part with him.

Both reached for his breeches at the same time. Opening the new belt with trembling fingers, pushing the pants down, to free him from the confines of his garment. Springing free, hard and ready, Reina felt the blunt head of his cock against her entrance, as Fenrik immediately started easing her down onto it.

Even slick and ready, she still felt impossibly tight, her flesh swollen and plump from the orgasm he brought her to just moments ago. Impatient as always, when in the throes of passion, instead of following his slow pace, she dropped herself all the way down onto him, throwing back her head, with a soft cry, her eyes fluttering shut. His length and girth stretched her to capacity, but by now, she was used to the comfortable burn.

Fenrik groaned out a string of expletives in his native tongue. He’d bit his tongue both in surprise and to keep from coming, as he was suddenly buried almost to the hilt inside of her snug, slick body. When she experimentally tightened her inner muscles around him, after a moment of acclimating herself to him, he cursed anew before pulling her head down to give her a kiss that was almost harsh in its intensity. 

Reina rolled her hips, trying to bounce, to bring herself up and down, but his embrace did not leave her with enough leverage for that. After a couple of heartbeats of Fenrik kissing her, holding her still to find his footing, his hands slipped to her waist, getting a good grip.  
“You feel so good… so tight…” he groaned into her mouth, thrusting upwards into her.  
“Yes… please – don’t stop izray…” she moaned, her voice trailed off into a lyrical sounding language, most likely her native elven or sylvan tongue.  
A few more strokes later, her words sounded more insistent, almost feverish. 

Wriggling her body, she brought up her feet, left and right of his hips, to the place on the log, where her knees had been resting all this time. With this new almost squatting position, her legs splayed opened wider and the angle changed. His next trust brought him deeper than before. Up to his balls inside her, the tip of his cock now touched her cervix. Both shuddered and gasped. The smell of ozone emanating from Fenrik, intensified, the crackling of thunder could suddenly be heard again in the distance and Reina panted, “Hah! As I said – you’re still fired up!”

Fenrik’s eyes seemed to glimmer with elms fire, as Reina gave him this truly sinful look, his grin turned feral, as holding her gaze, with her hands on his shoulders, his hand on her hips, he made good use of the ability to freely trust into her, harder and faster, her body taking him in completely and without resistance.

When Fenrik was half convinced that it could not get more intense, Reina spread her wings, beating them in a way that was reminiscent of taking flight. Pushing her body against him, to move with him in wild abandon. 

The sounds of flesh against flesh, beating wings, moving air, their panting and moaning filled the clearing beside the pine tree. They fell over the precipice of pleasure together. Being hit by their orgasm just a fraction of a heartbeat apart from each other. Fenrik emptied himself inside her, Reina’s inner muscles convulsing around his member, milking him dry. 

Crying out, clinging to one another, their brows resting against each other, just being in this moment – rain steadily falling, slicking their skin even more and washing away their sweat.  
God sent visions? Missions from the Church of Mystra? Wizardly challenges? All forgotten for a moment.  
They were together, perfectly content in their shared embrace, in the forest and the rain. Alive… triumphant.


	4. Reina’s Viking Bodice Ripper Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Fenrik's player and I talked about Fenrik and Reina getting together it all started with jokes about "viking bodice ripper romance" books - so I HAD to write one of those, right? or at least something like it ;D
> 
> The prompt for this one was Fenrik POV, bodice ripper with a twist and putting in this divan: https://pin.it/6e5XNnd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea) 
> 
> Reina is a Fey'ri (think elven tiefling; her mom is a sunelf, her dad a balor that serves Graz'zt; her grandparents are Eladrin and sunelves and somewhere in the mix is a silver dragon a bit further down the line ^^)
> 
> when she first came to the prime material plane from the Feywild, she fell madly in love with a vistani rogue. they married pretty much on the spot; she left for "only for a moment" and when she came back he was dead, his mom was angry as heck and cursed her.  
> Ever since she last told her late husband "I love you" she has not said it to anyone else. Fenrik has been really good about this so far. And while she's not saying the three words here, it can't take much longer now, can it?
> 
> (at this point the relationship has been going for about 5-6 months in game; which is LONG let me tell you, as time in game is always much shorter than one would think xD )

Beginning of Eleasis, 1492, Saltmarsh, Fatefinders Manor

When Fenrik, the strapping northland warrior, with the feathery scar pattern that Tempus’ own lightning bolts had painted him with, had left ”Fatefinder Manor” in the morning, Reina had been sitting cross-legged on the divan, amidst several stacks of books and scrolls, furiously scribbling some arcane formula onto a sheet of parchment.  
A tray with a teapot and some biscuits sat on top another stack of books on the floor, while a spectral purple “mage hand” floated a steaming cup of tea towards the fey’ri sorceress.

She had returned his goodbye kiss and gave him a dazzling smile, but he could tell that her mind was far away, distracted by whatever “dweomer” she was trying to figure out, so he hadn’t bothered asking her to join him, but left her to her research and went fishing.

When he returned, the summer sun had travelled far across the sky, the late afternoon throwing golden shafts of light through the balcony’s opened windows into their large master bedroom on the first floor of the mansion.  
He was about to call out Reina’s name, when the tableau before him silenced his greeting, having him spellbound in the alcove behind the double door, where his large body was half hidden by the drapes, which stopped the doors draft in the winter.

Reina was still on the divan, silver dragon-wings folded neatly to her back so she could lean against the armrest. Her long auburn colored hair partially wound around the dragon horns sprouting from her temples, but for the most part hanging free over the armrest, face shown only in profile. Her left arm, rested on the backrest of the divan, holding up a small book.

So far, not that different from a few hours earlier - but oh, how sweet the difference was, that had him transfixed standing there…

Between books and scribbled on parchment strewn across the floor around the ottoman, lay crumpled the chemise she had worn when he had left. Now the fey’ri bard was stark naked, her cream and peaches skin, with the silver dragon scales scattered like freckles, gilded by soft afternoon light. Her left knee was hooked over the backrest, the calf disappearing behind the piece of furniture.

Fenrik’s gaze had been trapped by her right hand that alternated between caressing the side of her neck and playing with her breast, teasing the nipple into an erect pink bud. With abated breath, he followed that hand’s way down, over her soft belly to the apex of her thighs, where it was then hidden from his sight by the bent knee of her right leg.

He remembered to breathe and swallowed hard, when Reina threw her head back, the column of her throat a long arch. She bit her lip, a dainty fang visible, trying to silence moans and soft sighs. Nevertheless, Fenrik’s sharp ears picked up on the barely discernable wet workings of the hand down below. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she seemed intent on chasing down that peak of pleasure.  
However the spell on Fenrik was only truly broken, when the left hand – now half forgotten – sank down and with a soft thud the book she’d still held, had closed.

In their time adventuring Reina had taught Fenrik a great deal about stealth and quietly sneaking through dangerous dungeons filled with enemies. He now used everything he had ever learned about moving quietly to lock the door to their suite and undress.  
Inwardly he cursed the many buckles on his fancy enchanted belt, while he listened to the sounds of his beloved pleasuring herself. He was almost done, when he heard his name. For a heartbeat, he stood stock-still, convinced, that he had been caught peeping in on her. But Reina’s eyes were still closed, head thrown back, back arched, her whole form shivering.  
He rubbed his broad, callused hand over his shaved scalp, a pleased and slightly goofy smile splitting his dark beard. So she was thinking of him, when she brought herself to orgasm? This was getting better and better! 

He kicked his pants of and strode into the room naked – hard muscles, tanned skin and feathery lighting scars on proud display – sporting an impressive hard-on.  
He leaned over the divan, his deep voice practically purring: “You called and here I am.”  
Reina, who’d still been in the throes of passion or dazed by the afterglow, startled visibly, yelped and almost hit him in the face with the book. Thanks to his superior reflexes, he caught her hand and read the title “The Northman and the Elven Maiden”. His grin got broader, a flash of white in the full, dark beard. His black brows raised and the lines beside his eyes crinkled. 

He took the book and let it fall beside the ottoman, grabbing Reina’s left leg, kneeling on the seat and wrapping her well-shaped limb around his slim muscle-corded hips without so much as a “by your leave”. 

“Fenrik! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?” Reina chided.  
He leaned over her with wagging eyebrows: “Not at all! I am trying to give you something else entirely.”  
While his left hand had now a firm grip on her hip, his right hand closed around his shaft, pushing the broad head of his erection through the plump, wet lips of her sex. Like a farmer ploughing the field, he moved it up and down, teasing the entrance, where the wetness gathered and softly rubbing over her still tingling clit.  
Reina’s eyes practically crossed, her mouth forming a perfect “o” of pleasure.

She blinked and said with a gasping laugh: “My summoning talent must have improved vastly.” Then she pulled his head down for a kiss, which he returned with interest, devouring her lips with hungry demanding kisses, and as his tongue invaded her mouth, he pushed his cock into the waiting tight, wet heat.  
Once he was seated deep, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against her brow, their noses almost touching, his right arm resting beside her head.  
“That must have been one hell of a good book,” he mused, moving with soft, sure strokes within her, “remind you of something, or someone?”  
“Maybe,” she panted. Then she frowned, “wait, how long have you been here?”  
“Long enough to see and hear all the good parts.” Reina could feel his suppressed laughter reverberate through him. Her eyes widened and she flushed crimson. “By the gods!”  
He just grinned, his hips thrusting forward. “No need to be embarrassed.”  
“I…”, Reina’s breath hitched, on his movement, her voice trailing off.  
Fenrik winked at her and continued the sensuous assault. She tried to move with him, but the way she was leaning against the armrest, with her left leg over the backrest and the other one wrapped around him and in his strong grip, made it impossible. “Trapped” between the divan and his broad, strong body, that eclipsed everything else, she could only cant her hips to improve the angle for his trusts. He slipped in even further and both groaned, at the pleasure.

“So, what was the Northman doing to the Elven Maiden?” Fenrik pressed out, trying to distract himself from how good Reina felt in his arms before he would come apart too soon.  
She pressed a kiss to his collarbone and nuzzled his pectorals. He could feel her cool breath (a gift of her draconic ancestor) fanning over his overheating flesh, giving him goosebumps, heightening his senses further: “Pretty much what this Northman his doing to his Elven Maiden now – ravishing her of course…”

Fenrik stilled, grinding his teeth. That had been a stupid question. His heart beat so fast and loudly, he could not hear her next words over the pounding of his pulse in his ears.  
“… or like you, or on a divan of course...” Reina paused as well. “Are you al…,” he swallowed her next words with a rough kiss, licking deep, tangling their tongues.

He was close to a frenzy, trying to fondle her with his right hand, but lost his rhythm and was forced to hold on to the armrest again. It took a heartbeat or two, for her panted “Put my leg over your shoulder, Fenrik – no! The other one – the left one my love…” to penetrate.  
He complied, with her murmured encouragement. “…if you hold on to the armrest with your left, you can go back to doing what you did before with the right…” and he did as she asked.

Back in a secure position, he now could knead the soft mound of Reina’s bosom with great appreciation, her small breast fitting his hand perfectly, the dusky pink tip, practically nuzzling into his palm.

“See, this is why I prefer trees – lots of branches for you to hold on to, always at least one free hand…” was the last coherent thing he brought out, before he picked up the pace. Reina was slight and her pussy always felt like a closed fist around him, but in this new position, this “fist” had tightened even further around his cock, practically choking him.

He straightened up, kissing the inside of her right knee and thigh, so close to his face. Then all sense fled. He took her with deep, hard – almost punishing – strokes, pumping into his lovers welcoming heat, grunting with exertion, while moans and dirty promises spilled form her lips with that rough-silk sounding bedroom voice – promises, that barely made sense to him anymore.

Feeling himself spiraling closer to the inevitable, he angled his thrusts upward. Reina hissed his name, arching into him, begging for “…more…” and “…harder…” in those breathless whimpers, which alone would be able to make a man come.  
His rhythm suffered but he no longer cared. She was biting her lips, but still his name fell from her mouth, like prayer. One hand digging into his shoulder, the other into his left thigh, she came undone under him.

He thrust thrice more into her, before he completely lost himself inside her. The cresting wave of his orgasm threatening to pull him under into senselessness, while Reina clung to him, her breaths sounding almost like sobs, brushing kisses on his arm, pectorals or whatever she could reach, as he softened inside her.

They were quiet for a few moments, pressed together, Fenrik trying his best not to collapse on top of Reina and crush her, their sweaty skin cooling in the ocean breeze coming through the window.  
When his coordination returned, he picked her up, flexing a bit for her benefit, switching their position, so that he now leaned up against the armrest and Reina lay draped over him. With a lazy wave of her hand, she cleaned them both, vanishing the sticky mess they made. She waved again and he could see her belly glow, as she sent a quick pulse of magic energy through her center. He knew it was a spell her grandmother had shown her. Her fae-elf-demon-dragon-heritage made for one hellish fertile mix and this way, there would be no unwanted consequences of their love making.

With a “mage hand” just like she used it in the morning, she poured the by this time cold mint tea into her cup and floated it over to them, taking a sip before handing it to him. He drank thirstily, only now realizing how parched he was.  
“Need more?” his beloved sounded amused.  
He nodded, handing her the cup back and she refilled it much the same way.

Drinking more slowly, idly caressing Reinas hair and back, he let his mind wander.  
After all those years, he had been re-united with the woman that captured his fancy, when he’d been a young man and she read him the cards. While he had aged, she still looked the same, when they met again in Oakhurst. They got together after the mess with the “Sunless Citadel”, the curse on her was broken and her true form revealed. Only a few tendays had passed before he confessed his love for her during their stay in Luskan. She never said that she loved him back and who could blame her, with what had happened. Her late husband dying shortly after she told him she loved him. But she showed clearly what was in her heart for him, made him feel, as if there was no one else in the whole world… and he suddenly realized something, that had been nagging at the back of his mind, something she had said to him earlier in the heat of the moment: “…the left one my love…”

He rubbed his broad, callused hand over his shaved scalp, trying to hide another big, goofy grin that lit up his face, before he crushed his wee lass to himself, making her squeak, while spilling the last bit of tea – this WAS getting better and better!  
What a good afternoon indeed…


	5. Under the boughs of the Weeping Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reina’riel Fatefinder was born in the Feywild and is part of the Autumn Court. For the Autumn Equinox she took her adventuring party with her to the Celebrations and some unexpected things happened.
> 
> Even though they've been together since spring, Reina has never said "I love you" to Fenrik (who has told her; but is also a patient man and does not pressure her to say it back), because old scars have kept her from doing so. The good thing about the bad stuff that happend during the celebrations, was that Reina finally told Fenrik that she loved him...
> 
> This is part I, where all the heartfelt romantic stuff happens - for smut/pwp see the next chapter ;3
> 
> Anyways - welcome aboard the SS Fenra y'all ^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

Highharvestide, 1492, Feywild, Autumn Court

They had slipped away from the Autumn Equinox celebrations. Wood elf cleric Ha’ron was in the care of the Seldarine Elves and dwarven druid Torla was dancing with one of the Werebears. A suggestive dance that left no doubt where things were going and that she wanted the night to herself. 

When her grandparents were sufficiently distracted, Reina took Fenrik’s hand and led him some way off, through the woods bedecked in a riot of fall colors, to an old weeping willow whose boughs formed a tent like refuge from the intrigues and plotting of the Court.

She pulled Fenrik after her through branches still bedecked with pale green and yellow leaves. In the willow’s twilight, she made a big sweeping motion, like a stage magician, then stopped and pointed at a group of pixies and sprites who had followed to ogle them, “Hey! You lot! Get a move on!”  
Her voice did not allow for anything but following the command and the little winged creatures flitted away. Reina shook her head, as she heard their sniffs and a low voiced, “Always had something of the Unseelie to her, don’t you think?”

Shaking away unbidden thoughts, she turned back to Fenrik and once more spread her arms, “Well, what do you think?”  
He looked around in wonder. The tree’s trunk was so massive that it would have taken several Northmen to circle it with their arms. Between the branches drifted small glowing lights – like fireflies. Moos covered parts of the trunk and roots that created deep ruts and nest-like indentations. He closed his eyes. Like everything in the Feywild it smelled more intense than the material plane counterpart would. There was something otherworldly to the smell of this forest – life and death and magic, but the rotting leaves and twigs, lend an earthiness to it as well.

Standing there with his closed eyes, he could exactly tell, where Reina was. This new bond between them, gave him an awareness of where she was and how she felt.  
And she felt a great many things – no wonder that his beloved was such a study in mercurial behavior. How all these emotions could be contained in one person was surely a wonder in and of itself. There was love, protectiveness, readiness to fight, anger and indignation, tenderness, melancholy, uncertainty and interest. He tried his best to figure out which feeling belonged to which event, but they were so tangled together, that it was hard to pull them apart.  
The only thing that was not in there was regret. And that gave him hope. He did not want her to regret her choices today, because he sure as hell did not. 

At least not her choices. As for his own? He still berated himself that the hags had managed to trick him. Especially as Reina had warned them all about the dangers of careless spoken words before coming to the Feywild.  
“Be the first in the hunt” had sounded so good. But it was not good at all, how the Fey had interpreted these words. When he was transformed into a wild bull and then chosen by the Autumn Queen’s Huntsman? When the horns had sounded and the spirit of the hunt had overcome him? There had been nothing left of himself for a time. Just the terror of prey being hunted.  
But then Reina and the Fatefinders had arrived. Magic induced calm, had brought him back to himself. And to the battlefield. The Fatefinders had laid waste to the hunters and fended off every attacker who dared come close and then brought him to the estate of Reina’s grandparent. From there they had ventured back to the Court, using secret paths.  
There in front of all of the Court Reina had for the first time ever, said aloud that she loved him and that he was hers. She had actually delivered a nice verbal smack down and laid claim to him at the same time, he thought with some pride.  
There had been some back and forth with Queen and Court and then he was shapeshifted back – and the bond had been there.  
Reina had been terribly upset, about everything that had happened and worried, that she might have gone against his wishes. But their talk afterwards seemed to have convinced her, that he wouldn’t want to change anything.  
After the hunt, she had also been gone for a while to talk to the Huntsman in private. He was not entirely sure about all the details, but it too seemed to have lifted her spirits. She almost felt giddy with something akin to relief, when she returned.  
So, one could say, that everything was well that ended well – the only one who seemed still not happy with their bond, was Reinas’s grandfather Riar’van. And Fenrik couldn’t really hold it against the Archdruid, considering that he had raised Reina as the daughter of his heart and was as proud of her, as if she’d hung the stars in the sky. No one would be good enough for her in his eyes and least of all a lowly human Northman Sailor. Especially not one chosen by Tempus and doomed to find one fight after the other for the rest of his life, which would be so much shorter than Reinas. But as Reina told him, she was already looking into ways to make sure that their lifespans, would match and that they could spend them together.

While he was reminiscing, Reina had watched Fenrik take in her favorite hiding spot from back when she was a young bard and felt utterly out of place at Court.  
Even in his human form and dressed in Court finery there was still something disheveled and primal about him. The hags had said that their spell had brought out something in Fenrik that was already there, just lending it the magic to take form.  
While at the time terrifying – considering that most of the Court had wanted to hunt her beloved down and spill his blood on the altar below the Queen’s throne – she had to admit that it had been an utterly magnificent form. Beautiful in its savage brutal tauriform strength. The lightning scars, that marked his human body, had spread over the body of the bull as well. He might as well have been a primordial in his splendor and might.

As if he felt her gaze on him, he opened his eyes and looked at her. In the twilight his grey eyes were dark pools under the dark bushy brows, laugh lines crinkled up as he gave her a smile that blinked white from the dark beard. His look and grin tugged on her heart and on something deeper. 

Wanting to get away from the court but not yet to her family’s estate, she had instinctively turned to the willow to find some calm and peace. She stepped over one of the roots, closing the distance between them. Looking up at him with a curious expression, she took his face into her hands. Her cool fingertips feeling his warmth, caressing the crowfeet lining the side of his eyes and enjoying the prickle of hair, as she let them rest on his bearded jaw.  
Crocking her head in a bird like gesture, her eyes searched for something in his gaze. Softly rubbing the pads of her thumbs over the part of his cheeks that was hairless, she opened her mouth, then bit her lip, then opening it, closing it, biting her lips again.  
He placed his hands over hers, stepping a bit closer. Leaning over her he said, still grinning, “The famous Reina’riel Fatefinder, at a loss for words. And here I thought that they were in endless supply for you.”  
She could feel herself blush and lowered her lids to hide the emotion in her eyes. Futile as that was with the bond between them. Licking her lips and swallowing, she finally brought out, “Simple words might be endless, but the right ones, are those that one sometimes has to search for. As every bard worth her salt will be able to tell you.”  
Through her lowered eyelids, she could not see how his gaze had snagged to her lips, as she licked them, or how ruddy his checks had become. Either oblivious of the shifting mood, or ignoring it, she cleared her voice, “You said, that you heard everything – at the Court that is, before you changed back… and I’ve been thinking – “  
“A dangerous pastime”, he said his smile growing even wider.  
She rolled her eyes and would have smacked him, but he had placed her hands over his heart with his own and held them there. His heartbeat steady under her palms.  
“As I’ve said, I’ve been thinking”, she looked up at him. “In a way it doesn’t count. I mean it does – it obviously does, but it somehow also doesn’t…”  
Her hands moved nervously – fingertips fidgeting with the embroidery of his tunic – moving like trapped birds under his hands, fine boned and fluttering.  
He opened his mouth, but she shook her head, her eyes pleading with him, to let her finish and he closed it, instead raising his eyebrows in question.

“My grandmother told me, that the things we didn’t do, are the ones we will regret the most. And I agree with her. Also, I realized something else. THIS it is NOT the same.” Her voice came fast, the words tumbling into each other, “I did not leave you behind, you came with me. You know so much more about me, than… and we will stay together! It IS different! Even if something would happen – to one of us, I mean. If we’d… pass on – neither Torla nor Ha’ron would stand for it! They would bring us back and… even if not – I would not want you to not have heard it from myself. Spoken to you directly, I mean…” the rambling stopped, and she took another deep breath, as if steeling her resolve. 

Her hazel eyes glimmered with the telltale sign of unshed tears, as she held his gaze with hers and emotion trembling in her words, “What I’m trying to tell you is this – I love you. Most ardently” an involuntary smile spread over her face as she could feel his rejoicing through their bond.  
Even so, from the outside he first looked flummoxed, then relaxed in visible relief. Bending his head down to hers, he kissed her. First her lips than the rest of her face, her cheeks, her temples and eyelids and between kisses, he kept repeating, “I know. I’ve always known and I love you too” the words falling from his lips, as he kissed away the tears that finally rolled over her face.


	6. Hidden by the Weeping Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally I can give you part II of the last scene - after love finally being admitted, there is smut ahead.  
> It's mostly self-indulgent PWP and if that's your jam, welcome to the part with the lemons ;D  
> Welcome aboard the SS Fenra ^^
> 
> Quick reminder:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder was born in the Feywild and is part of the Autumn Court. For the Autumn Equinox she took her adventuring party with her to the Celebrations and some unexpected things happened.
> 
> Even though they've been together since spring, Reina has never said "I love you" to Fenrik (who has told her; but is also a patient man and does not pressure her to say it back), because old scars have kept her from doing so. The good thing about the bad stuff that happend during the celebrations, was that Reina finally told Fenrik that she loved him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

Highharvestide, 1492, Feywild, Autumn Court

“What I’m trying to tell you is this – I love you. Most ardently” an involuntary smile spread over her face as she could feel his rejoicing through their bond.  
Even so, from the outside he first looked flummoxed, then relaxed in visible relief. Bending his head down to hers, he kissed her. First her lips than the rest of her face, her cheeks, her temples and eyelids and between kisses, he kept repeating, “I know. I’ve always known and I love you too” the words falling from his lips, as he kissed away the tears that finally rolled over her face.

Their embrace was tender and loving and with his kisses and words, Reina’s tears passed soon by, like rain in spring and turned to laughter. Which in turn became small sighs and moans, as the mood shifted and Fenrik’s mouth trailed from her face to her ear, to her throat, nibbling on the pulse point under her yaw and softly biting the juncture of neck and shoulder. Arousal flooded through the magical bond between them. Respectively inciting the other more as their hands roved over each other’s body.  
Reina could feel her nipples had pebbled into hard nubs and even the light, magical garment she wore, was feeling soon too restrictive. Fenrik’s member was a rigid length, straining against his trousers, which hardness she could feel clearly, as he pressed her against him to grab her ass and hungrily devoured her mouth with his. Liquid heat pooled between her legs, where she ached from the emptiness, pressing herself against him and her tights together to alleviate the throbbing.

Always the impatient one of the two in such scenarios, Reina decided help things “along”. She was sure, that she had just the right idea. Ever since they first became intimate after Oakhurst, outdoors sex had become their personal kink. On the grass beside her wagon, in their ship on the ocean, IN the ocean, at the beach and of course under – or up against – trees… In her hazy from excitement mind, a plan was quickly formulated.

So, as soon, as they came up for air, she started to squirm out of the tight embrace. And – something Reina had always appreciated about Fenrik – he immediately made room for her to move, instead of clamping down and trying to hold onto her.  
Covering up her intent, she indicated (just like a few minutes ago) their surroundings with a sweeping motion. Pulling his gaze up into the crown of the tree.  
The weeping willow kept them hidden from outside view and in turn hid the world from them. Thus, it created cozy intimate surroundings, with the tree’s branches hanging down to the moss and leaf covered ground.

“I know you appreciate a good tree – and this one is just wonderful, isn’t it? All these sturdy branches and its bark covered by soft moss…” she trailed off, giving him a coquettish smile.  
Turning, she was careful not to smack him in the face with her wings as she stepped closer to the tree. Spreading them she grabbed the nearest convenient boughs with the two claws at the peak of each wing, while bracing her left arm and hand against the tree’s trunk. Looking over her shoulder with a smolder, deliberately licking her lips, her eyes practically devouring him. 

She could see him swallowing hard and while he mentally steadied himself, it actually took him a moment, until he noticed that her right hand was slowly – oh so slowly – gliding over her right leg. Her fingers pulling up the fabric of her skirts, revealing a dainty foot, hidden in fancy low cut fey boots, placed on top of one of the big moss covered roots. Then a shapely leg, covered in shimmering silk stockings.

When he finally managed to pull his eyes away from her leg and look his gaze with hers, she smirked, winked and wriggled her well-rounded bottom at him. With a groan, he stepped forward wrapped his arms around her from behind.  
His warm hand replaced hers on her right leg, making her shiver in anticipation. His breath was hot against her ear, setting her aflame.  
“Reina’riel Fatefinder” he drew her name out, ”do you really expect me to hike up your skirts,” he pushed the fabric higher, caressing the bare thigh over the frilly garter of her stoking, “and fall on you like a wild animal,” his hips moved against her behind and she moaned his name, ”after you told me – for the first time! – that you love me?” he asked with a deep growling voice.  
Arching her back, pressing herself more firmly against him, to squirm against his loins, she practically moaned her answer, “I wouldn’t say ‘expect’…”  
“No?” his voice had gone to such a deep register, that it was barely discernable.  
“No. I’d say – ‘I’d HOPED that you would hike up my skirt and f…’” Fenrik had pulled her face to him and silenced her with a wild kiss.  
Reina felt a small efflorescence of triumph, because the excitement pulsing through their bond confirmed for her, that Fenrik knew that if he would hear her say it aloud, he would be lost. Because the pictures her words would create in his mind, would drive him to do just that - bending her over and jumping her like a randy lad. 

When he bit the very sensitive spot, where her right wing grew from her back and his left hand pinched her nipple, she first thought, that things would exactly go as she’d ‘HOPED’. However, to her surprise, he let got and ducked under her right wing, coming back around and between her and the willow to face her. 

Cradling her head in his warm hands, fingertips rubbing over scales and the growing points of her horns, his countenance was so earnest, when he looked at her.  
“Do you have anywhere to be? Any other appointments with the queen?” he questioned.  
Astonished Reina softly shook her head, letting the skirts fall back down, “No. The next ‘appointment’ will be breakfast with my family.”  
“Ah. Good,” his smile was a white blink in his dark beard. “So there is no need to rush then, my heart is there?” His smile grew wicked. “Let me show you then, how very much I not only desire, but cherish you.”  
Reina could feel a blush creep over her cheeks, down her neck over her décolletage to bloom into a full on body blush.  
Fenrik kissed her sweetly on the lips. Then he surveyed the ground, with a face not unlike the one he made, when he waded into the thick of battle. Intense, concentrated and passionate. 

Out of his bag of holding, he pulled a handspun woolen blanket. He spread it over one of the bigger nest like shapes, the roots made, one that would make a comfortable place to lay down, as it was filled with moos and old leaves.  
Gallantly holding out his hand, he helped her over and gently placed her on it. With years of a sailors practice in getting rid of clothing before jumping into the sea, he divulged himself of his boots, festive tunic – everything but his small clothes, while she arranged her wings and got situated on the blanket.  
Coming to rest beside her, he leaned over her, to caress the curve of her left horn and still rosy cheek. From there Fenrik’s hand wandered over her jaw to her neck. Trailing over the silver scales doting her skin like freckles, savoring the different textures.  
Reina had closed her eyes, simply enjoying his touch, but her lids flew open and she gasped when he cupped her left breast. The mound filled his broad hand perfectly, as if it had been formed for him alone and she arched her body into his touch.  
Her nipples stiffened to almost painful little peaks, that were easy to see and FEEL through the fabric of her magical glamour-weaved Court finery. Another gasp escaped her, as Fenrik lightly pinched the nipple of the breast, he had just fondled. 

Due to her Wings, her dress was held up, by fabric tied around her neck. Fenrik went to loosen that strap with years of practice in opening knots. Soon her chest was completely exposed, aside from her jewelry. Reina’s dusky pink nipples stiffened further in the cool air and under his intent stare. Her chest rising with breaths made heavy by excitement and arousal. Meanwhile Fenrik’s breath caught at the sight of his beloved, half-undressed, flushed and desirous for him.

Following the silver dragon scales, he kissed down the side of her throat over her clavicles and chest to one of the perfect globes. A strangled gasp died in her throat as he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth – hard. Then he lavished a soft kiss on it. Swirling his tongue around the little bud until Reina squirmed under him, trying to turn to him, wrap her legs around him – something to alleviate the ache inside her. But cradling her, he trailed open mouthed kisses to the other breast and repeated the sucking and kissing, working Reina further up. A delightful almost musical sounding moan escaped her and to him it was more beautiful than any of the sounds in the forest or the music at the Autumn Court.

When she started digging her rather sharp claw like nails into his behind, asking him to take her, in a way that sounded more like she was trying to intimidate him into doing it – he just grinned and kissed his way down over her soft belly and navel, before straightening up.

Loosening the belt around her hips, he pushed down and removed belt and dress in one go. Already kneeling at the end of the blanket, he pulled the dainty fey boots of her feet, giving them a quick massage and rubbing of soles sore from traipsing all over to find him (in bull form) before the wild hunt had. He feasted his eyes on her and his face looked like that of hungry man seeing a tasty morsel spread out before him.  
Aside from her enchanted jewelry Reina was naked – except for the garters and stockings. And to her it seemed that Fenrik took great pleasure removing first the lace and velvet ribbon bands and then pushing down, slowly and with great relish the silken stoking’s covering her long legs. 

Giving her a wicked smile he asked, “No underwear?”  
Returning his smile with one just as saucy, she replied, “I removed it before we came here.” He arched an eyebrow, “Oh?” Her grin turned even wider, “As I said – I had high hopes…”

Fenrik chuckled, slowly trailing his fingers up the ankle of the leg he still held and following his fingers up the leg trailed them with kisses on the bridge of the foot, the ankle, the calf, the hollow of the knee, the soft inside of her thigh. Reina’s breath hitched in anticipation, but Fenrik passed the apex of her thighs by, caressing and kissing his way the other leg down!

Reina’s eyes turned into slits. Was this payback for that time in Waterdeep, with the ice cube? Or standard human behavior after telling them you loved them? Tormenting you, trying to drive you out of your skin? Then she remembered what had happened after the ice cube and maybe Fenrik just thought of sweet torment as cherishing. A soft giggle escaped her and Fenrik looking up at her, seemed to mistake it for his beard tickling her skin.

She winked at him and made a come-hither motion with her right hand, but he just went back to his merry way down her leg. She gave an inaudible sniff – she for one could not remember agreeing to any terms and used her ability to subtly cast a spell.  
Maybe it was the hint of mischievousness felt through the bond, or maybe Fenrik felt a spark of her magic. He glanced up, but all he could see, was how his beloved playfully kneaded her breasts and played with her nipples, rolling them softly between finger and thumb. Grinning he tickled his beard against Reina’s calf, still determined to make his way all the way down. Then he noticed what the whiff of magic had been. A pale hand, looking like Reina’s, but spectral and see-through, stroked the pink glistening lips of her sex, before gently spreading them, tracing the opening with soft fingertips.  
Reina’s eyes closed involuntarily and she threw her head back, with a soft moan. The cool touch of the mage hand, was not as good as Fenrik’s hand would feel – but his flummoxed look and the way his eyes could not rip themselves away from the tableau she must make, was truly priceless.

Next, the cold feeling of the mage hand was rather forcefully replaced by warmth that felt almost scorching in comparison. Looking down the length of her body, there was Fenrik lying between her legs, her thighs hiked over his broad shoulders. His tongue liking her from slit to clit in wide strokes. The hum of a moan or other inaudible sound vibrating against her tender flesh. As he started sucking on her clit she almost saw stars. Then she felt a broad finger breach her entrance and she could only whimper, “Yes my love, like that.” The motions of her hip encouraging to plunge deeper. 

Fenrik felt himself drown in a haze, his lovers scent and the wet silken walls gripping his finger, as he pleasured her, had his blood not only filling his member, but pounding in his ears. The small sounds he wrought from her, spurred him on. Her legs seemed to try and close without her intent and he shouldered them open. Still licking her, he pushed another finger into her tight heat, moving in and out, curling them slightly up, searching for the sponge-like texture of the point he knew, she liked to well.  
Looking up he could see that she had dug one hand into the root over her head, the other was pressing him against her, as if she was afraid, that he would stop. He gave a soft chuckle, and then softly and carefully bit the small bundle of nerves, before lavishing more kisses on it. As if, he would be able to stop now.  
Remembering that he’d promised himself, that she would feel not discomfort tonight – he pushed another finger into her, preparing her for the vigorous bout of lovemaking, he had in mind. 

The sound of his ministrations and her soaked center filled the air under the weeping willows boughs with loud sounds of lovemaking. Reina’s moans became louder and louder. The way her fingers dug into his shaved scalp he knew she must be close and intensified his attentions. The rocking of her hips stopped, her body going rigid, Fenrik could feel her inner walls clench rhythmically against his fingers.  
Then her orgasm blasted through the bond and through him in such an unexpected way, that the world turned to rapture. He only stopped his motions against her, when next the feeling of overstimulation swept from her to him. Softly removing his fingers from her core he steadied himself, wincing at the wetness in his smallclothes.  
Looking up he saw her look at him, her eyes full of wonder and love.  
“Did you feel that?”  
He nodded a perplexed and slightly foolish grin on his face, which Reina returned.  
“Oh this is going to be soo much fun,” she purred, sitting up and after one glance at him, she waved her hand. He could feel the stickiness in his beard and pants disappear.

Reina’s hand reached out and stroked him through the fabric of his smallclothes. He jerked, then hissed – her hand moving up and down his length, brought him back to standing at full attention again. 

“You really are insatiable,” he sighed with a smile.  
She grinned. “And don’t you know it?”  
Snorting she added, “Also that’s kind of rich, coming from you, is…” the last bit was lost in his mouth as he kissed her deeply.  
When the next came up for her, her heavy lidded eyes looked at him with lust and adoration. Still stroking his length, she asked, “How do you want…” He placed a finger on her lips. “No, how do YOU want – “ She playfully bit his finger, than sucked on it and his breath hitched.  
“I’ll get to be on top,” she proclaimed.  
“Oh, of course my lady,” Fenrik kissed the back of her hand, “your wish is my command.”  
They shared a smile and switched positions.

Seeing the tall, muscular body of her lover spread out on the blanked – his skin crisscrossed with old and new scars and the most prominent ones the feathery ones from a lightning strike.  
Licking her lips, while looking at his big cock, which seemed to twitch under her regard, she gave him an apologetic smile, “You know that I’m as impatient as insatiable.”  
He grabbed her hips and helped her straddle him, mumbling “I find myself not minding that at all right now.”  
Gasping she dragged his hard cock through her sensitive folds, teasing her clit with his head, he softly bucked up to meet her.  
“Shall we postpone the teasing for now?” She asked.  
“Yes, please,” he ground out.

Lining up his thick member with her soaking entrance, she slowly pushed herself down on him, letting him fill her and stretching her walls deliciously.  
Fenrik was not a small man and proportionate, but he felt much bigger than he looked, if that was even possible. But thanks to the expert ‘groundwork’ for once there was no uncomfortable burning sensation.  
“I’m starting to see the wisdom of your ‘cherishing’”, she said, while experimentally bouncing up and down once. She was not sure if he even heard or understood her, but it did not matter. The only thing that mattered was that they were together.

When she started to move in earnest, he grabbed her hips for leverage, pulling her down, impaling her on his length. Reina whimpered as Fenrik, was finally buried to the hilt, his hips touching hers. Finding their rhythm, they at first were sidetracked by the feedback the bond created – an echo of what the other felt. But if anyone could find their footing with something like that, it would be a determined bard and a maybe even more determined barbarian.

Soon they found a rhythm that worked and held onto each other, as the climax kept building between them. Reina braced herself against his pectorals, moaning as their joined movement became harder and more erratic. Then the pinprick sensation of Reina’s claws and her teeth as she bit his neck pushed both over the brink. 

Fenrik shuddered and for one confusing moment almost dislodged her, before he hugged her so tightly to him that her bones groaned. Her inner walls fluttering around the hardness still buried inside her. Combined with the feedback every move sent twitching aftershocks through them both. 

When everything calmed down a bit and the world started to come back into focus, they shared a sated smile. He gently pushed auburn looks that were plastered to her temples and neck aside, hocking them over her pointed ears and horns.

“I should tell you that I love you more often, if that’s what comes of it.”  
“Mmmhmmm,” he hummed with a self-satisfied grin that even his dark beard could not manage to hide.  
Reina leaned her head on her hand, arching a brow, gazing down at him with a smile. “I love you.” It sounded like a provocation. He shook his head in amusement, grabbed her around the waist and rolled her under him.  
“Challenge accepted.”


	7. Horny bard's snow day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their return from the Autumn Court festivities the Fatefinders spent then winter as a prolonged Downtime in their Manor in Saltmarsh between their adventures.
> 
> Everyone knows the jokes about bards always being horny - if you play a Fey'ri bard, these words take on an entirely new meaning ;D
> 
> The prompts here were: horny/horns and BJ (high time! haven't had one of those since Chapter 2!!)
> 
> Enjoy ^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

End of Uktar, 1492, Saltmarsh, Fatefinders Manor

Last night’s storm had blown over. The first snow had fallen on the grounds of Fatefinders Manor. The light in the room had that slight bluish quality of predawn in winter, when the earth is covered in snow.

From the cocoon of Fenrik’s arms, Reina carefully moved another log into the hearth with her mage hand.  
The snow and cold called to her Silverdragon heritage, but it was too early to go out and play. Good thing that it was never too early for bed play. She grinned. 

…

Soft, full lips trailing over his woke Fenrik up – the best way to wake up, in his humble opinion. His beloved smelled and tasted of fresh snow, cider and elderflowers and there was a nip of magic on his tongue, when hers tangled with it.

During the night while the storm had been howling, she had rested with her head on his shoulder, her limbs entwined with his. It gave him a good feeling, that she trusted him so much, that she laid down and let him wrap himself around her protectively, even if she normally would trance in a cross-legged position. She called to his protective side like no one else.  
And an added side benefit was, that because his body had warmed hers up, her usually cool skin and silver scales felt warm against his. When she normally would have left a trail of cold spots (which could be a trill in itself – but maybe not first thing in the morning) due to the borrowed body heat, there was only the tantalizing touch of lips, tongue and magic on his skin as she kissed her way down, to where he was already hard and throbbing, waiting for her.

He had just opened his eyes, when they fluttered back shut, as her fingertips caressed his shaft and then closed around him with the surety of a lover well versed in what would bring the most pleasure.

…

While she expertly sucked him off, his hands had grabbed hold of her horns. Reina hummed deep in her throat in approval, but then to her dismay he let go. Not stopping her mouths working or changing her pace, she looked up and saw that his hands had grabbed hold of the bedsheets instead.  
She frowned and with a soft, wet sound released his cock from the confines of her mouth. Her lips looked raspberry red and bee-stung from kissing and foreplay.

He raised his head, looking down the length of his body, over the muscled plains of his chest and stomach painted with feathery looking lightning scars.   
Between pants, he brought out, “You ok? Why did you stop?”  
She frowned, “Why I stopped? Why did YOU stop?”   
He looked utterly confused, “What?”  
She nodded towards his hands, still burrowed into the sheets.   
“I noticed that you do that. Letting go of my horns, when it gets the most fun!” she practically pouted.   
Her eyes turned to slits, because she could tell that he tried his best to camouflage a startled laugh with a cough. Idly closing her slender fingers into a tight fist around him, pumping leisurely up and down, as to not lose too much momentum. It was difficult to tell if he looked flushed due to this or embarrassment, but through the bond between them, she thought it was actually self-consciousness. 

“I,” he started, and then cleared his throat, “I just don’t want to hurt you… or that you feel like I’m forcing you…”  
“Forcing me?” her laughter was like a bell. “I wake you up, with kisses and a throat hug and you think that YOU are forcing ME to do anything?”

Both started to sit up. Fenrik’s face looked even ruddier now in the snow day’s morning light.   
“Look, it’s just that I’m so much stronger and in the throes of passion…,” he made an expressive gesture. “I’m just trying to be considerate!” he sounded almost defensive.  
Reina shook her head and kissed him, stopping whatever else he was stuttering in explanation. 

“Two things,” she said and when his gaze dropped to her cleavage she gave him a playful slap, “not those two things!”   
“First – you might be strong, but I have fangs and claws and magic; I could ‘defend’ myself should your ‘throes of passion’ become too much to handle, but I’m sure you’d stop way earlier. Which brings me to my second point – if you’d truly hurt me, you’d feel it through the bond, remember?”  
In sitting up, his legs had fallen open and she knelt between his strong, muscular thighs. Softly caressing the fine lines beside his eye and the hairless part of his checks over the full dark beard, her smile was tender and loving.   
“I trust you Fenrik. More than you might trust yourself, when it comes to this. I’m not made of glass and you’re VERY welcome to grab my ass, thighs, wings or HORNS or whatever when the mood takes you,” she winked at him and got a wry grin back before he pulled her in for a deep kiss.  
Coming up for air again, she continued, “And should I end up with a bruise – there is always healing magic… which you should know, as you’re usually the one that’s ending up ‘marked’ when you work me up too much and…,” she was silenced again by another passionate kiss.  
“You made your point,” he said kissing the tip of her nose.  
“Good!” a pleased grin curved her full lips and she pushed him back into his former supine position on the pillow and bedsheets.

With rekindled fervor, she went back to working his phallus with lips and tongue, until Fenrik was in a right lather again. Then she enfolded his length with her lips. He was too big to take him all in comfortably, so she used her hand closed into a fist around his base moving in tandem with her mouth.   
This time when his left hand trailed caressingly over her right horn and then closed around it, he did not let go. Another moment passed before he grabbed the other horn as well, but instead of losing his nerve, as she half feared, he gave the most erotic groan when she allowed him to control her movement with his hands on her horns. Directing how fast and deep she took him, she hummed her approval, feeling excitement and prurience trickle into her through the magical bond connecting them. 

He was rock hard and seemed to swell even more, as she hollowed her mouth, making sure not to nick him with her teeth and fangs, listening to his moans and her name, his voice becoming raspier by the second. The scent of ozone and petrichor hung like a storm cloud in the air. His involuntary movements became jerky and Reina could tell that he was close.   
Her jaw burned and the back of her throat felt slightly raw as she bottomed him and swallowed at the deepest point. He bucked, his manhood pulsed in her mouth and thick warm come spurted down her throat. One last pass and swallow, then he let go of her horns, with shaking hands.  
Releasing him from her mouth, Reina carefully not to poke him with her horns let her head rest on his thigh. Nuzzling her face against him, like a cat, while lazily trailing her fingers over the softening member, she enjoyed the echo of his climax that had branded through their bond. His breath evened and looking up they shared a smile across the length of his body…


	8. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fatefinders have arrived in Varisia and spend the first night in the "Rusty Dragon" Inn - but old memories are bubbling up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea) 
> 
> My Fey'ri bard/draconic bloodline sorcereress Reina'riel Fatefinder has a rather long and in parts sad backstory. Even though we've been playing for over 2 years now, there are of course some things and still affect her behavior and I’ll try to turn that part of her “before adventuring” life into a bit more than two sentences :3
> 
> Fey'ri = half elf, half demon (think elven tiefling)  
> reverie = the trance like state that elves enter instead of sleeping

End of Tarsahk, 1493, Varisia, Sandpoint, "Rusty Dragon" Inn

The Fatefinders had found their night’s rest in the dorm room of the “Rusty Dragon” Inn. Torla was fast asleep, her breath soft and quick, like that of a dreaming deer – not that she would appreciate the comparison, but Reina would take that anytime over that of her snoring like a bear. One was plenty, because Fenrik, who had turned over on his back, WAS trying his best to impersonate one at the moment.  
Ha’ron’s breaths were very deep and very slow. His face utterly serene in the few stray rays of moonlight. His thoughts lost in reverie – the trance like state, the elves entered for four hours every night instead of sleeping. 

Reina looked around – something had pulled herself out of reverie. She knew that the senses of the others were usually more finely tuned to danger, so it was no wonder that nothing alarming was jumping out at her. A look outside the door and another out of the window did not show anything out of the ordinary. 

Through the open door, the smell of smoke and beverages from the downstairs barroom had entered the sleeping room but instead of feeling reassured, that nothing was amiss a quiet unease tugged at her. She took a sip of water from the flask that normally hung from her belt but that she had put on the nightstand during their respite. Giving Fenrik a soft push, he rolled back on his side, making room for her to sit cross-legged beside him on the bed and blessedly calming the ruckus of his snoring down.

Reina did not want to wake her beloved. So, instead of putting her hands, which were always cold on his back to feel his breathing (as she wanted to do to reassure herself further), she placed them in her lap and let herself sink back into reverie.  
The memories came quickly. The trance had her re-live the feeling of passing through a fey-crossing and wandering through a forest. When she recognized the woods, a shiver passed through her. She noticed a few patches of snow among the trees, and remembered wondering, if she had stayed longer than planned in the Feywild.  
When the empty campground came into sight dread bubbled up inside her, turning the colors in starker contrast than they had been at the time.

“Wake up”, she commanded herself, “don’t re-live this memory.”

She had honed her voice into a weapon, a tool that commanded and made others obey, but her own mind did not listen. Remembering had been set into motion and she could not escape the past – not on her own and not until it had played out.

Her last thought, that was of the present, was that the scent of the tavern had carried the smoking herbs and tobacco that the Vistani preferred. Of course, her “helpful” subconscious had noticed it and chose the most painful cascade of memories to play out. Then the present fell away, mist disappearing under winter sunshine and she walked the muddy roads searching for her clan and for her husband…


	9. The weight of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenrik POV - the barbarian sees his beloved Reina in the clutches of unwanted memories and tries to pull her out of them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I skipped the actual nightmare part *hides*  
> But the Fenrik POV did not want to leave me alone and herding plot bunnies is hard work ;D
> 
> Song at the end is the middle part of the love song "My Luve Is Like A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns
> 
> also again no sexy times - sorry! Maybe next time ^^'
> 
> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

End of Tarsahk, 1493, Varisia, Sandpoint, "Rusty Dragon" Inn

He could not have said what woke him. Just that he knew. It had happened again.  
It was not that something was there – it was the absence of something, the absence of her.  
His beloved had closed the bond between them. The bond they shared ever since the autumn equinox they spent at the Autumn Court in the Feywild, where she professed her love for him and claimed him in front of the whole court. A bond that let them feel each other’s presence and discern their emotional state. But now where Reina should be, was a yawning void.  
Turning around – there she was. Sitting cross-legged beside him, slightly hunched over, her arms wrapped around herself in a hug, as if she was cold. At least that was what it looked like at first glance. By now, he knew better.  
She was not trying to keep warm; it was as if she subconsciously tried to keep herself together. In that “hug” her nails were dug so deep into the flesh of her upper arms, that they drew blood. She had tried to “wake up” and failed. The bond was closed up, because even in this state, she tried to protect him.

From the outside, she looked like she had looked so many years ago, when she read him the cards. Green eyed, dusky skinned, with raven dark looks.  
It was not was she really looked like… as a Fey’ri she was born with an “elven guise”.  
A guise to hide her true form. Donning and doffing it, was as easy as breathing to her – at least again. She had been “trapped” looking like this for slightly over 7 years. These days she never took this form, at least not consciously.  
Nowadays when she used this ability, she looked like her true form, but without the horns, scales, wings and claws. Just a pale, red haired elven maiden. Stunning, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary, or so she used to claim. Not so now. That old guise was back. Never a good sign.

Reina’s eyes were wide open. Seeing something, he could not. They looked strangely empty and lifeless. The color a bright cold green, not unlike glacial ice. She did not blink and tears were streaming freely from them. 

He moved into her field of vision. Kneeling in front of her, he gently held her shoulders. His gaze trying to catch hers.  
“Come back dearest”, he whispered.  
For the longest moment, nothing happened, and then Reina blinked. As her eyes opened again, the color had deepened back to their normal hazel.  
She took a deep breath. It sounded like a sigh. The elven guise melted away. Her true from was revealed – pale silvery horns sprouting from her temples, gracefully curving back over long auburn hair and pointy ears. Wings unfurled from her back, like a smaller version of a silver dragon’s wings with the coloration of a silk moth on the inside. Her skin a pale peaches and cream complexion, dotted with silver scales, like freckles. Right now, it looked paler than normal – as if something had leeched all the vitality from her. She also felt colder to the touch, than was normal.

Aside from the blink and the reverting of forms, she had not moved, or shown that she actually saw him. He frowned, worried and started softly prying her claws from her own flesh.  
She had dug deep gouges and there was blood, streaming as freely as the tears.  
He could not have said what was worse. Seeing his beloved tears, or the bleeding wounds. 

He took her face into his hands and with a kind but stern voice told her, “Heal your arms, please.”  
A small frown wrinkled her brow and drew the dark red brows down. A soft wince, as if she only now felt the pain. An almost invisible nod was given. One that he felt more with his hands, that held her face, than actually saw.  
She whispered a word and the wounds closed. Another word and the blood was gone, as if it never been there.  
He kissed her brow, whispering, “Good, well done” against her skin.  
Then moving to sit against the headboard of the bed, he pulled her into his lap. She was as silent, cold and compliant as a doll. Hugging her to himself, he rubbed his big hands over her freshly healed arms, trying to warm and revive her.

Elves rested different from humans. They did not sleep and did not dream. They entered a trancelike state called “Reverie” and relived their memories. From what Reina and Ha’ron told him, they did have some control about what memories they would revisit. However, sometimes traumatic and dark memories claimed them and it was hard to shake them off.  
Ha’ron also said that it was unwise to leave them unheeded or interrupt them. One should let them play out, as they were a way for the mind to heal.  
Fenrik was sure that if he saw Reina like this, he might reconsider this stance. 

Right now, his beloved was seemingly trapped between waking and dreaming, or Reverie or whatever. Not even the pain of the deep wounds could fully rouse her to herself from the nightmarish memories her mind pushed on her.  
He pressed her against his broad chest, her head coming to rest against his shoulder and his leaned his head on top of hers. Normally she would have giggled, because holding her like this his beard tickled her forehead. But still nothing. And the bond was still closed.

Pain could not reach her, moving her could not reach her – but he still had tricks up his sleeve to pull her out. Because he knew that his love would reach her, that there was something. Something that had worked in the past. Even though he always felt a bit foolish… he sighed, wasn’t everyone a fool for love?  
He rubbed a hand over his shaved scalp and down the knotted muscles of his neck and the feathery scars, which a lightning strike had left him with. One last look to her face – no change – he sighed again pulled her even closer and then started to sing so softly that only she could hear:

“So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in luve am I;  
And I will luve thee still, my dear,  
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,  
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;  
I will love thee still, my dear,  
While the sands o’ life shall run…”

His voice in her ear, Reina’s body started to relax and warm to his touch. A small sound like a sigh or sob escaped her. She wrapped her arms around him and although he would have sworn that they could not get closer, they somehow did. It was as if she tried to melt into him and disappear. He closed his own eyes in relief, a sigh of relief escaping him and hugged her so hard, that her ribs groaned. Why the rough and untrained voice of a Northman sailor singing could break the spell on his beloved’s mind, would be forever beyond him. But if it meant that the color would return to her face and life into her eyes and that the bond would open and he could feel her with him, body and soul? Then he would sing for her every night if need be…


End file.
